《The Burning Stone (Crown of Stars #3)》


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    PROLOGUE


    HE had run this far without being caught, but he knew his Quman master still followed him. Convulsive shudders shook him where he huddled in the brush that crowded a stream. His robes were still damp. Yesterday he had eluded them by swimming a river, but they hadn¡¯t given up. Prince Bulkezu would never allow a slave to taunt him publicly and then run free.


    At last he calmed himself enough to listen to the lazy flow of water and to the wind rustling through leaves. Across the stream a pair of thrushes with spotted breasts stepped into view, plump and assertive. Ai, God he was starving.


    The birds fluttered away as if they had gleaned his thoughts instead of insects. He dipped a hand in the water, sipped; then, seduced by its cold bite, he gulped down handfuls of it until his skin ached. By his knee a mat of dead leaves made a hummock. He turned it up and with the economy of long practice scooped up a mass of grubs and popped them in his mouth. Briefly he felt their writhing, but he had learned to swallow fast.


    He coughed, hacking, wanting to vomit. He was a savage, to eat so. But what had the Quman left him? They had mocked him for his preaching, and therefore had taken his book and his freedom. They had mocked him for his robes, his clean-shaven chin, and his proud defense of Lady and Lord and the Circle of Unity between female and male, and therefore treated him as they did their own female slaves or any man they considered sheath instead of sword¡ªwith such indignity that he winced to recall it now. And they had done worse, far far worse, and laughed as they did it; it had been sport to them, to make a man into a woman in truth, an act they considered the second worst insult that could be given to a man. Ai, God! It had not been insult but pain and infection that had almost caused him to die.


    But that was all over now. He had run before they took away his tongue, which truly mattered more to him than the other.


    Water eddied along the bank. A hawk¡¯s piercing cry made him start. He had rested long enough. Cautiously he eased free of the brush, forded the stream, and fell into the steady lope that he used to cover ground. He was so tired. But west lay the land out of which he had walked in pride so many years ago that he had lost count: five or seven or nine. He meant to return there, or die. He would not remain a Quman slave any longer.


    Dusk came. The waxing moon gave him enough light to see by as he walked on, a shadow among shadows on the colorless plain. Stars wheeled above, and he kept to a westerly course by keeping the pole star to his right.


    Very late, a spark of light wavering on the gloomy landscape caught his attention. He cursed under his breath. Had the warband caught and passed him, and did they now wait as a spider waits for the fly to land? But that was not proud Bulkezu¡¯s way. Bulkezu was honorable in the way of his people¡ªif that could be called honor¡ªbut he was also like a bull when it came to problems: he had no subtlety at all. Strength and prowess had always served him well enough.


    No, this was someone¡ªor something¡ªelse.


    He circled in, creeping, until in the gray predawn light he saw the hulking shapes of standing stones at the height of a rise, alone out here on the plain as though a giant had once stridden by and placed them there carelessly, a trifle now forgotten. His own people called such stone circles ¡°crowns,¡± and this fire shone from within the crown. He knew then it was no Quman campsite¡ªthey were far too superstitious to venture into such a haunted place.


    He crept closer on his hands and knees. Grass pricked his hands. The moon set as the first faint wash of light spread along the eastern horizon. The fire blazed higher and yet higher until his eyes stung from its glare. When he came to the nearest stone, he hid behind its bulk and peeked around.


    That harsh glare was no campfire.


    Within the ring of stones stood a smaller upright stone, no taller or thicker than a man. And it burned.


    Stone could not burn.


    Reflexively, he touched the wooden Circle of Unity he still wore. He would have prayed, but the Quman had taken his faith together with so much else.


    A woman crouched beside the burning stone. She had the well-rounded curves of a creature that eats as much as it wants, and the sleek power of a predator, muscular and quick. Her hair had the same color as the height of flame that cast a net of fire into the empty air. Her skin, too, wore a golden-bronze gilding, a sheen of flame, and she wore necklaces that glittered and sparked under the light of that unearthly fire.


    Witchfire.


    She swayed, rocking from heel to heel as she chanted in a low voice.


    The stone flared so brightly that his eyes teared, but he could not look away. He saw through the burning stone as through a gateway, saw another country, heard it, a place more shadow than real, as faint as the spirit world his ancient grandmother had told tales about but with the sudden gleam of color, bright feathers, white shells, a trail of dun-colored earth, a sharp whistle like that of a bird.

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    Then the vision vanished, and the stone snuffed out as though a blanket of earth thrown on the fire had smothered it.


    Stone and fire both were utterly gone.


    A moment later the lick and spit of everyday flame flowered into life. The woman fed a common campfire with dried dung and twigs. As soon as it burned briskly, she made a clucking sound with her tongue, stood, and turned to face him.


    Ai, Lord! She wore leather sandals, bound by straps that wound up her calves, and a supple skirt sewn of pale leather that had been sliced off raggedly at knee length. And nothing else, unless one could count as clothing her wealth of necklaces. Made of gold and beads, they draped thickly enough that they almost covered her breasts¡ªuntil she shifted. A witch, indeed.


    She did not look human. In her right hand she held a spear tipped with an obsidian point.


    ¡°Come,¡± she said in the Wendish tongue.


    It had been so long since he had heard the language of his own people that at first he did not recognize what he heard.


    ¡°Come,¡± she repeated. ¡°Do you understand this tongue?¡± She tried again, speaking a word he did not know.


    His knees ached as he straightened up. He shuffled forward slowly, ready to bolt, but she only watched him. A double stripe of red paint like a savage¡¯s tattoo ran from the back of her left hand up around the curve of her elbow, all the way to her shoulder. She wore no curved felt hat on her head, as Quman women did, nor did she cover her hair with a shawl, as Wendish women were accustomed to do. Only leather strips decorated with beads bound her hair back from her face. A single bright feather trailed down behind, half hidden. The plume shone with such a pure, uncanny green that it seemed to be feathered with slivers from an emerald.


    ¡°Come forward,¡± she repeated in Wendish. ¡°What are you?¡±


    ¡°I am a man,¡± he said hoarsely, then wondered bitterly if he could name himself such now.


    ¡°You are of the Wendish kin.¡±


    ¡°I am of the Wendish kin.¡± He was shocked to find how hard it was to speak out loud the language he had been forbidden to speak among the Quman. ¡°I am called¡ª¡± He broke off. Dog, worm, slave-girl, and piece-of-dung were the names given him among the Quman, and there had been little difference in meaning between the four. But he had escaped the Quman. ¡°I¡ªI was once called by the name Zacharias, son of Elseva and Volusianus.¡±


    ¡°What are you to be called now?¡±


    He blinked. ¡°My name has not changed.¡±


    ¡°All names change, as all things change. But I have seen among the human kin that you are blind to this truth.¡±


    To the east, the rim of sun pierced the horizon, and he had to shade his eyes. ¡°What are you?¡± he whispered.


    Wind had risen with the dawning of day.


    But it was not wind. It sang in the air like the whirring of wings, and the sound of it tore the breath out of his chest. He tried to make a noise, to warn her, but the cry lodged in his throat. She watched him, unblinking. She was alone, as good as unarmed with only a spear to protect her; he knew with what disrespect the Quman treated women who were not their own kin.


    ¡°Run!¡± he croaked, to make her understand.


    He spun, slammed up against stone, and swayed there, stunned. The towering stone block hid him from view. He could still flee, yet wasn¡¯t it too late once you could hear their wings spinning and humming in the air? Like the griffins who stalked the deep grass, the Quman warriors took their prey with lightning swiftness and no warning but for that bodiless humming vibrating in the air, the sound of their passage.


    He had learned to mark their number by the sound: at least a dozen, not more than twenty. Singing above the rest ran the liquid iron thrum of true griffin wings.


    He began, horribly, to weep with fear. The Quman had said, ¡°like a woman¡±; his own people would say, ¡°like a coward and unbeliever,¡± one afflicted with weakness. But he was so tired, and he was weak. If he had been strong, he would have embraced martyrdom for the greater glory of God, but he was too afraid. He had chosen weakness and life. That was why They had forsaken him.


    She shifted to gaze east through the portal made by standing stones and lintel. He was so shocked by her lack of fear that he turned¡ªand saw.


    They rode with their wings scattering the light behind them and the whir of their feathers drowning even the pounding of their horses¡¯ hooves. Their wings streamed and spun and hummed and vibrated. Once he had thought them real wings, but he knew better now: They were feathers attached by wire to wooden frames riveted to the body of their armored coats. That armor had a scaly gleam, strips of metal sewn onto stiff leather coats. On a standard fixed to a spear they bore the mark of the Pechanek clan: the rake of a snow leopard¡¯s claw. The Quman had many tribes. This one he knew well, to his sorrow.

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    At the fore rode a rider whose wings shone with the hard iron fletching of griffin feathers. Like the others he wore a metal visor shaped and forged into the likeness of a face, blank and intimidating, but Zacharias did not need to see his face to know who it was.


    Bulkezu.


    The name struck at his heart like a deathblow.


    A band of fifteen riders approached the ring of stones, slowing now, the hum of their wings abating. From a prudent distance they examined the stone circle and split up to scout its perimeter and assess the stone portals, the lay of the ground, and the strength of its defenders. The horses shied at first, made skittish by the great hulking stones or by the shadow of night that still lingered inside the ring, but taking courage from their masters, they settled and agreed to move in closer.


    The woman braced herself at the eastern portal with her spear in one hand. She showed no fear as she waited. The riders called out to each other. Their words were torn away on a wind Zacharias could not feel on his skin¡ªaudible but so distant that he could make out no meaning to what they shouted to each other, as though the sound came to him through water.


    At once the whirring began again as all the riders kicked into a gallop and charged, some from the left, some from the right, some from the other side of the circle. Wings hummed; hooves pounded; otherwise they came silently except for the creak and slap of their armored coats against the wooden saddles.


    With the rising sun bright in his eyes, Zacharias saw Bulkezu as iron wings and iron face and gleaming strips of iron armor. The two feathers stuck on either side of his helmet flashed white and brown. The griffin feathers fletched in the curving wooden wings that were fastened to his back shone with a deadly iron gleam. Where the ground leveled off, just beyond the eastern portal, he galloped toward the waiting woman, lowering his spear.


    Zacharias hissed out a breath, but he did not act. He already knew he was a coward and a weakling. He could not stand boldly against the man who had first mocked him, then violated him, and then wielded the knife.


    He could not stand boldly¡ªbut he watched, at first numb and then with a surge of fierce longing for the woman who waited without flinching. With an imperceptible movement she opened her fingers. From within her uncurling hand mist swirled into being to engulf the world beyond. Only the air within the stone circle remained untouched, tinted with a vague blue haze. An unearthly fog swallowed the world beyond the stones.


    All sound dissolved into that dampening fog, the whir and hum of spinning feathers, the approach of the horses, the distant skirl of wind through grass.


    With a sudden sharp exclamation, the woman leaped to one side. A horse loomed, became solid as griffin feathers cut a burning path through the mist. In stillness the horse jumped out of the fog and galloped into the ring of stones, hooves clattering on pebbles. Bulkezu had to duck so that his wings did not strike the lintel stone above.


    The other riders could be seen as fleeting figures searching for a portal to enter, yet they were no more substantial than fish swimming beneath the cloudy surface of a pond. They could not leave their fog-enshrouded world. They could not enter the circle.


    The war leader quickly scanned the interior of the stone ring, but the woman had vanished. As he turned his horse in a tight circle the griffin feathers left sparks behind them in the blue haze. Of all things in this place, those feathers alone seemed immune to the witchcraft that had been brought to life.


    ¡°Dog!¡± he called, seeing Zacharias through the haze. ¡°Crawling one! You have not escaped me!¡± He nudged his horse forward, tucked his spear between leg and horse¡¯s belly, and drew his sword. Zacharias shrank back, trapped against the stone. He had nowhere to run.


    But the horse had taken no more than three steps when the earth began to shake and the huge stones groaned and creaked and seemed to swing wildly from side to side, although Zacharias felt nothing at his own back except solid, unmoving stone. Bulkezu¡¯s horse stumbled to its knees, neighing in terror, and Bulkezu himself was thrown. Stones swayed as if whatever spell had set them in place was at this moment unweaving itself, and Zacharias shrieked, flinging up his hands to protect himself, although mere flesh could not protect him against stone.


    This was more than witchcraft.


    The woman appeared again in the center of the circle, surefooted and unshaken by the earth¡¯s tremors except for the flashing shimmer and sway of beads dangling among her gold necklaces. Bulkezu struggled up from his hands and knees behind her. Zacharias tried to call a warning, but the breath sucked into his lungs congealed there and he could only gasp and choke and point.


    With a grunt, the woman swung around to bring the flat of the obsidian blade down between the two arched spines of Bulkezu¡¯s wings, onto his head. The blow laid him flat on his stomach, and his helmet canted awkwardly to one side, almost torn off. Blood swelled from the base of his skull to mat his black hair. The shaking subsided, but the haze remained. Outside the circle the other riders flitted by this portal and that, still searching for an entrance.

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    The woman stepped closer to Bulkezu¡ªthat fast he rolled to one side and jerked himself up and back around in a half turn. The tips of his deadly wings hissed through the air to slice her across the abdomen and through her sheath of necklaces. Beads of jade and turquoise, pellets of gold, rained onto the ground around her. He leaped backward, up to his feet, sword held before him. His helmet he slapped down, and again when it would not settle right around his eyes, and then, with an angry grunt, he wrenched it off and flung it to one side so that, finally, his face was exposed¡ªproud and handsome in the Quman way.


    Ugly red welts bloomed on the woman¡¯s bronze-dark skin. Blood welled from the cuts and snaked down in vermilion beads to lodge in the waistband of her skirt.


    They faced off, each wounded, each warrior now. In this way they measured each the other: the Quman warrior made fearsome by the glint of the griffin feathers bound into the wings at his back¡ªonly a man who had killed a griffin could wear such wings; and the foreign woman, not of human breed or birthing, with her bronze cast of skin and hair, her own blood seeping unheeded down her belly. Her gaze on her opponent was as unyielding as the stone behind Zacharias¡¯ back.


    Bulkezu sprang forward, batting at the spear with his sword and closing the distance between them. Zacharias gasped aloud. But her spear circled around Bulkezu¡¯s blow, and as she stepped aside, she caught him with the haft, a strike behind his knee. She was neither frail nor slender; the force of her blow dropped him to his knees, but he sat down hard, locking the haft beneath him, and lashed out with his sword. She leaped back, abandoning the spear. But as he rose to pursue her, the spear moved. Like a serpent come to life, it twined around his legs. He fell, catching himself on his hands, but where his sword struck earth, it sank into the dirt as if hidden claws dragged it down into the depths. No matter how hard he scrabbled, he could not grab it.


    She raised her arms again, chest naked now except for a single strand of gold that curved along the swell of a breast. The shaking resumed, more violent than before. The great lintel stones rocked and teetered and began to slide. Wind battered Zacharias to his knees. With his dagger Bulkezu hacked at the magicked spear wound around his legs, but to no avail. With each cut it merely grew spurs and flourishes, and these spurs sprouted roots that embedded themselves into the ground until its many-limbed net pinned his calves to the dirt and twined up his arms. In frustration he threw his dagger at her. With her arms outstretched and blood trickling down her breasts to pool in the folds of her skirt, she merely stared.


    But the dagger slowed¡ªor was that a trick of the haze and the trembling earth? As the shaking subsided, the dagger froze, suspended in the air.


    Impossible. Zacharias staggered up to his feet, leaning on the stone for strength. What was she?


    ¡°Damn you, witch, what do you want?¡± cried Bulkezu, but she did not reply; she did not appear to understand him, and neither did she appear to care. In the seething fog beyond the stone circle, riders still quested back and forth and around the ring of stones for some way to get inside.


    Bulkezu struggled on the ground but could not free himself from the rootlike tangle that bound him hand and foot. His sword had vanished into the earth. He looked furious. Brought down by a mere woman, and one armed with the most primitive of weapons! But Bulkezu¡¯s hatred could not be more tangible than Zacharias¡¯ exultation.


    Zacharias actually crowed, the rooster¡¯s call. He had lived to see Bulkezu brought low.


    ¡°Sorcery is a weapon more powerful than a blade,¡± Zacharias cried in the tongue of the Quman people. ¡°What matter that she is a mere woman and you are a strong warrior? What matter that the tribes sing your praises because you slew a griffin, the first warrior in a generation to do so? You may be adept at war, mighty one, but she is armed with something more dangerous than brute strength. Her sorcery binds you. You can only kill her, never compel her to your will as she does to you now. And the truth is, you can¡¯t kill her either.¡±


    ¡°Dogs can bark, but it is all noise,¡± snapped Bulkezu without looking at him. He did not look away from his opponent. ¡°As for you, you who are only a woman, you have made an enemy this day.¡±


    But the woman only smiled, as if she found his threats so insignificant as to be laughable. At that moment Zacharias fell in love with her¡ªor with what she was, and what she had: She was no coward, and her gods walked with her. What matter that he no longer possessed that portion of a man that some considered to be all the measure of manhood? Hadn¡¯t the blessed Daisan himself said that the peace of true love lasts until the end of days, and has nothing to do with carnal desire? She was everything he was not.

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    ¡°I beg you,¡± he called hoarsely in the Wendish tongue, ¡°let me serve you so that I may teach myself strength.¡±


    She looked at him, then turned away to catch the horse and hobble it. To one side of the fire lay a basket and a quiver. She unearthed bow and arrows, and with some care she approached the furious warrior and plucked a griffin¡¯s feather from the wooden frame which, like two shepherd¡¯s crooks, arched over his head. Her fingers bled at once, and profusely, but she only licked her fingers and murmured words, like a prayer, under her breath.


    ¡°Nay, I beg you, let me do it.¡± Zacharias stumbled forward as Bulkezu cursed out loud. ¡°Let me do it. For he has shamed me, and in this way I may return shame upon him threefold.¡±


    She stepped back to regard him with narrowed eyes. He had never seen eyes of such green before, fathomless, as luminous as polished jade. Measuring him, she came to a decision. Before he could flinch back, she nicked his left ear with her obsidian knife, and when he yelped in surprise, she licked welling blood from his skin¡ªand then handed him the knife and turned her back on him as she would on a trusted servant.


    ¡°Strike now!¡± cried Bulkezu, ¡°and I will give you an honorable position among my slaves!¡±


    ¡°There is no honor among slaves. You are no longer my master!¡±


    ¡°Do you not recognize what she is? Ashioi, the tribe of gold. The ones who vanished from the bones of earth.¡±


    A chill from the stones seeped into Zacharias¡¯ skin and soaked through to his bones. It all made sense now. She had come from the spirit world. She was one of the Aoi, the Lost Ones.


    Bulkezu grunted, still struggling. Only a man who never ceased striving could stalk and slay a griffin. ¡°I will lay a blood-price on her. My riders will track you, and kill her, and bring you back to grovel at my feet.¡±


    Zacharias laughed, and at once his fear sloughed off, a trifle compared to the prospect of victory over the man who had humiliated him. ¡°You bargain and then threaten, Bulkezu, mightiest son of the Pechanek clan. But what you took from me is nothing to what I am about to take from you, because the flesh is given by the god to all men but your prowess and reputation can never be returned once they are taken from you. And by a dog, a piece-of-dung who was used as you use slave women!¡± He reached for a feather.


    ¡°I curse you! You will never be more than a slave, and always a worm! And I will kill you! I swear this on Tarkan¡¯s bones!¡±


    Like an echo of the threat, the iron-hard feathers sliced Zacharias¡¯ skin with each least touch until his palms and fingers were a mass of seeping cuts. Blood smeared his hands and made them slick while Bulkezu struggled and cursed but could not free himself from his bindings as Zacharias denuded his wings.


    He took everything, all but one, and when he was finished, his hands bled and his heart rejoiced. ¡°Kill him now!¡± he cried.


    ¡°His blood will slow me down.¡± She said it without emotion, and by that he understood there was no possible argument. ¡°Nor will you touch him,¡± she added. ¡°If you will serve me, then you will serve my cause and not your own.¡±


    She grasped Zacharias¡¯ hands and licked them clean of blood, then let him go and indicated that he should stow most of the feathers in the quiver. She fletched several of her stone-tipped arrows with griffin feathers, afterward hefting them in her hand, testing their weight and balance. When she was satisfied, she went to the eastern portal and began to shoot, one by one, the riders who circled her sanctuary. At once they sprayed a killing rain of arrows back into the stones. She had downed four of them before they truly understood that although neither they nor their arrows could get into the circle, her arrows could come out. At last they retreated out of arrowshot with their wounded. As from a great distance Zacharias saw them examine the arrows and exclaim over them while one rider galloped away eastward.


    ¡°My tribe will come soon with more warriors,¡± said Bulkezu, even though he knew by now that the woman did not understand his words. He had recovered himself and spoke without malice but with the certainty of a man who has won many battles and knows he will win more. ¡°Then you will be helpless, even with my feathers.¡±


    ¡°And you will be helpless without them!¡± cried Zacharias.


    ¡°I can kill another griffin. In your heart, crawling one, you will never be more than a worm.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± whispered Zacharias, but in his heart he knew it was true. Once he had been a man in the only way that truly counted: He had held to his vows. But he had forsaken his vows when God had forsaken him.


    Bulkezu glanced toward the woman. He could move his neck and shoulders, wiggle a bit to ease the weight on his knees and hands, but he was otherwise pinned to earth, no matter how he tried to force or twist his way free of her spell. ¡°I will raise an army, and when I have, I will burn every village in my path until I stand with your throat under my heel and her head in my hands.¡±

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    Zacharias shuddered. But he had come too far to let fear destroy him. Against all hope he was a free man again, bound by his own will into the service of another. He might be a worm in his heart, but hearts could change. She had said that all things change.


    ¡°Come, you who were once called Zacharias-son-of-Elseva-and-Volusianus.¡± She had stepped back from the edge of the stone circle and hoisted two baskets woven of reeds and slung them from the ends of Bulkezu¡¯s spear, then balanced and bound the spear as a pole over the saddle. To the saddle she tied three pale skin pouches, odd looking things that each had five distended fingers probing out from the bottom as if they had been fashioned from a cow¡¯s misshapen udder or a bloated, boneless hand. She tossed dirt over the fire. She whistled tunelessly and wind rose, blowing the fog outside the sanctuary of the stone circle into tufts of a wicked, cutting gale. The distant riders retreated farther away.


    Bulkezu strained against the spear with its many rootling arms that clasped him to the earth, but he still could not shift at all. The remaining griffin feather hissed and fluttered in the rising wind. While she tested the harness, ignoring him, he tested his shoulders to see how far he could slide his wings out, or if he could wedge himself down far enough to cut at the magicked staff with the iron edge of that last feather. ¡°I will have my revenge!¡±


    She took no notice of his threat. Instead, when everything was to her liking, she returned to the eastern portal to watch. Fog shrouded the land, and in this fog she¡ªand Zacharias with her¡ªcould easily make their escape, concealed from the eyes and ears of the waiting riders. But how long would they have until the Quman riders tracked them down?


    She turned to smile at him as if, like the spotted thrush, she had divined his thoughts. Carefully, she wiped drying blood from her abdomen, then clapped red-streaked hands together and spoke words. A flash of heat blasted Zacharias¡¯ face, and suddenly, as the burning stone winked back into existence in the center of the stone circle, he knew that the Aoi woman would not leave this sanctuary by any earthly road.


    The woman regarded him unblinking, as if testing his courage. Bulkezu said nothing. Zacharias dropped the horse¡¯s reins and untied the bedroll behind the saddle, shook it out to reveal the fine knee-length leather jacket that Quman men wore when they did not wear armor. He offered this to her so that she could cover herself, because not even necklaces covered her upper body now, only the smears and drying tracks of her own blood.


    The stone burned without sound. Wind swirled round them, whistling through the stones.


    Bulkezu threw back his head and howled, the eerie ululation that according to the shamans was the cry of the he-griffin. Zacharias had heard that call once, from far away, when the Pechanek clan had wandered the borderwild of the deep grass¡ªthe land beyond human ken into which only heroes and shamans might venture. Ai, God! He had never forgotten it.


    But he would not let it rip his hard-won courage from him now.


    She stepped forward. Zacharias followed, leading the horse.


    The heat of fire burned his face, but just before he could flinch back from the flame, they passed through the gateway. Bulkezu¡¯s call, the high-pitched song of wind through grass and stone, the moist heat of a midsummer day blanketed by fog¡ªall of these vanished as completely as though they had been sliced away by a keen and merciless blade.


    PART ONE


    THE DEAD HAND


    I


    THAT WHICH BINDS


    1


    THE ruins stretched from the river¡¯s bank up along a grassy slope to where the last wall crumbled into the earth at the steep base of a hill. Here, on this broken wall under the light of a waning quarter moon, an owl came to rest. It folded its wings, and with that uncanny and direct gaze common to owls it regarded the ring of stones crowning the hilltop beyond.


    Stars faded as light rose and with it, shrouded in a low-hanging mist, the sun. The moon vanished into the brightening sky. Still the owl waited. A mouse scurried by through the dew-laden grass, yet the owl did not stir to snatch it. Rabbits nosed out of their burrows, and yet it let them pass unregarded. Its gaze did not waver, although it blinked once. Twice. Thrice.


    Perhaps the mist cleared enough for the rising sun to glint on the stones that made up the huge standing circle at the height of the hill. A light flashed, and the owl launched itself into the air, beating hard to gain height. From above the stones it swooped down into the circle, where certain other stones lay on the soil in a pattern unreadable to human eyes. Flame flickered along the ancient grain of a smallish standing stone in the center of the ring. Out of the flame came faint words overheard in the same way that whispers escape through a keyhole, two voices in conflict.

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    ¡°It seems to me that you have all been too gentle. A firmer hand would have solved the matter long ago and bent this one you seek to your will.¡±


    ¡°Nay, Sister. You do not fully understand the matter.¡±


    ¡°Yet do you not all admit that I have certain gifts none of the rest of you possess? Is that not why I was brought among your number? Is it not fitting that you let me try my hand in this in case your other plan fails? Then you will see what I am capable of.¡±


    ¡°I am against it.¡±


    ¡°Yours is not the final word. Let the others speak.¡±


    Wind sighed in the distant trees and hummed through the stones. A hare bounded into view, froze, its ears twitching, and then flinched and leaped away into the cover of mustard flower and sedge.


    ¡°We risk nothing if she fails,¡± said a third voice. ¡°If she succeeds, we benefit, for then our absent sister can return here quickly and we can return to our work that much sooner.¡±


    Hard upon these words came a fourth voice, ¡°I am curious. I would like a demonstration of these methods we have heard so much about.¡±


    ¡°I care not,¡± said the fifth voice, so faint that the sound of it almost died on the wind. ¡°This is a trifle. Do as you wish.¡±


    Now the first spoke again. ¡°Then I will attempt it. What has eluded you for so long will not elude me!¡±


    The owl glided down in a spiral. With sudden grace it folded its wings and, heedless of the flames, came to rest on the smooth knob at the top of the burning stone. The sun¡¯s light pierced the last strings of mist and broke brightly across the grandeur of the stone circle.


    Between one moment and the next, the burning stone vanished¡ªand the owl with it.


    2


    IN any village, a stranger attracts notice¡ªand distrust. But Eagles weren¡¯t strangers, precisely; they were interchangeable, an arm of the king¡ªhis wings, so to speak¡ªand they might come flying through and, after a meal and a night¡¯s sleep, fly away again, never truly at rest.


    Liath had discovered that as a King¡¯s Eagle her only solitude on any errand she rode for the king came while actually on the road itself, because the roads were lightly traveled. Wherever she stopped to break her fast or for a night¡¯s shelter, she had no rest as long as she stayed awake. Villagers, deacons, chatelaines, nuns, even simple day laborers: All of them wanted gossip of the world beyond because few of them had ever ventured more than a day¡¯s walk from their home¡ªand even fewer had actually seen the king and his court.


    ¡°Did the foreign queen die?¡± they would ask, surprised, although Queen Sophia had died almost four years ago.


    ¡°Lady Sabella rebelled against King Henry¡¯s authority?¡± they would cry, aghast and amazed, although all this had taken place a full year before.


    ¡°We heard the Eika sacked the city of Gent and are laying the countryside waste all around,¡± they would confide nervously, and then she would calm their fears by telling them of the second battle of Gent and how Count Lavastine and King Henry had routed the Eika army and restored the ruined city to human hands.


    To them, she was an exotic bird, bright, fleeting, quickly come and quickly gone. No doubt they would remember her, and her words, long after she had forgotten them and theirs.


    It was a sobering thought.


    In the village of Laderne full twenty souls crowded the house of her host, turning her visit into a festive gathering. They entertained her with songs and local gossip while she ate, but as soon as her host brought her a mug of beer after the meal, they turned their questions on her.


    ¡°What¡¯s your errand, Eagle? Where did you come from? Where are you going?¡±


    She had learned to judge how much to say: when to keep close counsel or when to be more forthcoming. Many people favored her with better food the more she told them, and this old householder clearly thought her visitor important: She hadn¡¯t watered down the beer. ¡°I¡¯m riding to the palace at Weraushausen, at the king¡¯s order. He left his schola there, many of his clerics and most of the noble children who attend the progress. His own young son, Prince Ekkehard, is among them. I¡¯m to give them word where they are to meet him.¡±


    ¡°Weraushausen? Where¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Beyond the Bretwald,¡± she said. They shook their heads, hemmed and hawed, and advised her to ride carefully and on no account to cut through the old forest itself.


    ¡°Young fools have tried it now and again,¡± said Merla, the old householder. She had about six teeth left and was proud of them. ¡°They always vanish. Killed by wolves and bears, no doubt. Or worse things.¡± She nodded with satisfaction, as if pleased at their dreadful fate.

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    ¡°Nay, I heard at market that foresters was cutting a road through the heart of the Bretwald at the king¡¯s order,¡± protested one of the men. He had a face made bright red by many hours working in the sun.


    ¡°As if any could do so,¡± retorted the old woman. ¡°But you¡¯ve said nothing of the king. Has he named an heir yet? This Prince Ekkehard, perhaps?¡±


    ¡°He has an eldest daughter, Princess Sapientia. She¡¯s old enough to be named as heir now that she¡¯s ridden to battle and borne a child.¡±


    ¡°Ach, yes, proven her fertility and led soldiers in war. God have marked her as worthy to rule.¡±


    They nodded sagely all round, much struck by this sign of God¡¯s favor, all except one thin man in the back. He sipped beer and regarded Liath with pale eyes. He was almost as brown as she was on his face and hands, but where his tunic lay unlaced at his chest¡ªfor it was still warm¡ªshe could see how pale his skin was where the sun didn¡¯t reach. ¡°He¡¯d another child, a son, with a Salian name¡ªSawnglawnt, or something like that. He was a grand fighter, captain of the King¡¯s Dragons. But I heard from a peddler that he and his Dragons died when the Eika took Gent.¡±


    She flushed, and was grateful that people who did not know her well could not see any change in her complexion, dark as it was. ¡°Not dead,¡± she said. How on God¡¯s earth did she manage to keep her voice from shaking? ¡°He¡¯d been held prisoner, but he was freed by troops under the command of Count Lavastine. He is now safe at the king¡¯s side.¡±


    They exclaimed over this miracle. She gulped down her beer. But the damage had already been done. That night she slept restlessly and in the morning blushed to recall her dreams.


    Ai, Lady. What had he said to her six days ago as the dawn light rose over the king¡¯s camp, set up outside Gent?


    ¡°Marry me, Liath.¡±


    All day the sun shone as Liath rode northwest along the great northern loop of the Ringswaldweg. She passed only a few travelers during the day: two carters hauling coarse sailcloth weighted down by a dozen bars of pig iron; a quiet pack of day laborers seeking a harvest; a peddler pushing a handcart; and a trio of polite fraters walking south with bare feet, callused hands, and sun-chapped faces. The ancient forest known as the Bretwald loomed to her left, so thick that it was no wonder travelers did not bother to try to hack through it but rather suffered the long journey round its northern fringe. Land broken up by trees, pasture, and the occasional village surrounded by strips of fields marched along on her right. She was used to traveling. She liked the solitude, the changing landscape, the sense of being at one with the cosmos, a small moving particle in the great dance of light.


    But now, as the late summer twilight overtook her, the wind began to blow, and for some reason she couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that something was following her. She glanced back along the road, but it lay empty.


    Never trust the appearance of emptiness.


    Clouds brought an early dusk, and she unrolled her cloak and threw it over her shoulders as rain spattered down. Because the summer had been dry, the road did not churn instantly to mud, but even so, the way bogged down and she soon despaired of reaching any kind of shelter for the night.


    God knew she did not want to sleep outside on a night of storm and rain, far from any human habitation.


    The rain slackened. From ahead, she heard a faint jingling of harness, and for an instant she breathed easier. She had no fear of lawful riders on the king¡¯s road.


    For an instant.


    Out of the darkening sky behind her, she heard a low reverberation, a tolling like that of a church bell. But she had passed no church since midday.


    Was that sound the echo of a daimone¡¯s passing? Did such a creature pursue her again? She glanced back but saw no hollow-eyed daimone formed into the fair semblance of an angel gliding above the earth, saw no glass-feathered wings. Yet as the rising wind buffeted her, she felt a whisper:


    ¡°Liathano.¡±


    The air shuddered and rippled on the road far behind her, just where it hooked to the right around a bulge in the forest¡¯s girth. Columns of mist rose into the air like great tree trunks uprooted from the forest and spun into gauze.


    Surely it was only a trick of the light. But claws seemed to sink into her, into her shoulders and deeper yet, right down to her heart, and those claws clutched at her, tugging her back toward the tolling bells. Why not just wait? Why not just slow down and wait?


    ¡°Come to me, Liathano. Do not run any longer. Only wait for us, and you will find peace.¡±


    Her horse snorted nervously and flattened its ears.

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    ¡°Wait for us. Come to us.¡±


    She hesitated.


    ¡°Run,¡± Da would answer. ¡°Run, Liath.¡±


    The compulsion to wait slid from her like rainwater off a good roof. With fear and anger fueling her, she urged her mount forward. It eagerly broke into a canter. She glanced back, and her heart almost died within her. Creatures formed like columns of living oily smoke streamed along the road, chasing her. They had voices, a rustling murmur like countless leaves stirred in a gale, underscored by that terrible dull tolling bell-voice. That they were living creatures she did not doubt.


    And they were gaining on her.


    She freed her bow from its quiver, readied an arrow. On the wind she smelled a hot stench like that of the forge. Her horse bolted, and she let it run while she turned in the saddle and, drawing, measured the distance between her and her pursuers. She loosed, but the arrow fell harmlessly onto empty road.


    The shout came as warning. ¡°Hey, there! Look where you¡¯re going!¡±


    Ahead, in the dimness, she saw a small party: two riders and an escort of four men-at-arms. A minor lord, perhaps, or a steward about the business of his lady: She did not recognize the sigil of a deer¡¯s head on white that marked the shields. They swung wide to make room for her headlong flight.


    But as she drew breath to shout a warning to them in turn, light flashed to her right, and beyond the road where the ground swelled up to make a neat little tumulus, fire flashed and beckoned from a shadowy ring of standing stones.


    An owl glided past, so close that her horse shied away rightward, breaking off the road. She needed no more urging than that. With her bow in one hand and the reins in the other, she let the horse have its head. It jumped a low ditch to reach the grassy slope that marked the tumulus. From the road, men shouted after her.


    A moment later she heard screaming.


    The horse took the slope with the speed of a creature fleeing fire, and yet it was fire that greeted them in the center of the tiny stone circle: seven small stones, two of them fallen, one listing. And in the center stood an eighth stone as tall as a man of middling height; it burned with a blue-white fire that gave off no heat.


    The shrieking from the road turned into garbled noises that no human ought to be able to utter. She dared not look behind. Ahead, the owl settled with uncanny grace onto the top of the burning stone, and the horse leaped¡ª


    She shouted with surprise as blue-white flame flared all around her. Her horse landed, shied sideways, and stopped.


    With reins held taut and the horse quiet under her, Liath stared around the clearing: beaten earth, a layer of yellowing scrub brush, and thin forest cover made up of small-leafed oak as well as trees she had never seen before. But her voice failed her when the man sitting on a rock rose to examine her with interest. Not a human man, by any measure: with his bronze-tinted skin and beardless face and his person decorated with all manner of beads and feathers and shells and polished stones, he was of another kinship entirely. Humans named his kind Aoi, ¡°the Lost Ones,¡± the ancient elvish kin who had long since vanished from the cities and paths trodden by humanity.


    But she knew him, and he knew her.


    ¡°You have come,¡± he said. ¡°Sooner than I expected. You must hide until the procession has passed, or I cannot speak for what judgment the council will pass on you and your presence here. Come now, dismount and give me the horse.¡±


    He looked no different than in the vision seen through fire, although he was smaller in stature than she expected. The feathers with which he decorated himself shone as boldly as if they had been painted. The flax rope at his thigh was perhaps a finger longer than when she had last seen him, weeks¡ªor was it months?¡ªago. A tremulous moan sounded from the depths of the forest, and a moment later she recognized it as a horn call. She shaded her eyes, and there along a distant path seen dimly under shadows she saw a procession winding through the trees. At the head of the procession, a brilliant wheel of beaten gold and iridescent green plumes spun, although no wind blew.


    ¡°How did I come here?¡± she asked hoarsely. ¡°The creatures were chasing me, and then I saw an owl ¡­ and the burning stone.¡± She turned in the saddle to see the stone still blazing, blue-white and cold. No owl flew.


    ¡°An owl,¡± he mused, fingering a proud feather of mottled brown and white, one dull plume among the many bright ones that trimmed his forearm sheath. He smiled briefly, if not kindly. ¡°My old enemy.¡±


    ¡°Then the horse leaped, and I was here,¡± she finished haltingly. She felt like a twig borne down a flooding stream. Too much was happening at once.


    ¡°Ah.¡± He displayed the rope and the fiber he twined to create it. ¡°Out of one thing, we make another, even if there is no change or addition of substance. Sometimes it is the pattern that matters most. These strands of flax, alone, cannot support me or aid me as this rope can, and yet are they not both the same thing?¡±

 Page 10

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand what you¡¯re saying.¡±


    ¡°The burning stone is a gateway between the worlds. All of the stones are gateways, as we learned to our sorrow, but this one was not fashioned by means of mortal magics but rather is part of the fabric of the universe. To use it, one must understand it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know anything,¡± she said bitterly. ¡°So much was kept hidden from me.¡±


    ¡°Much is hidden,¡± he agreed. ¡°Yet nevertheless you have come to me. If you are willing, I sense there is a great deal you can learn.¡±


    ¡°Ai, God. There¡¯s so much I need to know.¡± Yet she hesitated. ¡°But how long will it take? To learn everything I need to know?¡±


    He chuckled. ¡°That depends on what you think you need to know.¡± But his expression became serious. ¡°Once you have decided that, then it will take as long as it must.¡± He glanced toward the procession in the forest, still mostly hidden from them in their small clearing. ¡°But if you mean to ask how long will it take in the world of humankind, that I cannot answer. The measure of days and years moves differently here than there.¡±


    ¡°Ai, Lady!¡± She glanced at the stone. The fire had begun to flicker down, dying.


    ¡°Why do you hesitate?¡± he pressed her. ¡°Was this not the wish of your heart?¡±


    ¡°The wish of my heart.¡± Her voice died on the words as she said them. Of course she must study. It was the only way to protect herself. She wanted the knowledge so badly. She might never have this chance again.


    And yet¡ªshe could not help but look back.


    ¡°You are still bound to the other world,¡± he said, not dismayed, not irritated, not cheerful. Simply stating what was true. ¡°Give me your hand.¡±


    He was not a person one disobeyed. She sheathed her bow and held out a hand, then grunted with surprise and pain as he cut her palm with an obsidian knife. But she held steady as blood welled up, as he cut his hands in a similar fashion and clasped one to hers so their blood flowed together. His free hand he pressed against the stone. Fire flared, so bright she flinched away from it, and her horse whickered nervously and shied. But the old sorcerer¡¯s grip remained firm.


    ¡°Come with me,¡± he said. ¡°What has bound you to the world of human kin?¡±


    The fire opened, and together they saw within.


    When he sprawls in the grass under the glorious heat of the sun, he can hear everything and nothing. He shuts his eyes, the better to listen.


    A bee drones. A bird¡¯s repetitive whistle sounds from the trees. His horse grazes at the edge of the clearing, well out of reach of his other companions: three Eika dogs in iron collars and iron chains bound to an iron stake he has hammered into the ground. Bones crack under their jaws as they feed. These three are all that remain to him of the beasts who formed his warband in Gent¡¯s cathedral. He hears their chains scraping each on the others as the dogs growl over the tastiest bits of marrow.


    A stream gurgles and chuckles beyond them: he has washed there, although he will never truly wash the filth and the shame of Bloodheart¡¯s chains off himself no matter how often he spills water over his skin and cleanses himself with soap or sand or oil. Now he lies half-clothed in the sun to dry in merciful solitude.


    Of human activity he hears nothing. He has fled the captivity of the king¡¯s court and found this clearing next to the track that leads northwest¡ªin that direction she rode off on the king¡¯s errand eight days ago. Here, now, he relishes his freedom, bathing in sun and wind and the feel of good mellow earth and grass beneath his back.


    A fly lands on his face and he brushes it away without opening his eyes. The heat melts pleasantly into his skin. Where his other hand lies splayed in the grass he has tossed down the square leather pouch, stiffened with metal plates and trimmed with ivory and gems, in which he shelters the book. He feels its weight just beyond his fingertips, although he does not need to touch it to know that it is still there, and what it means to him: a promise. He keeps it always with him or, when he hunts or bathes, ties it to the collar of one of the dogs. The dogs are the only ones among his new retinue he can trust.


    Wind rustles in leaves, indifferent whispers so unlike the ones that follow his every movement among the courtiers¡ªthe one they think he can¡¯t hear.


    Each day of the king¡¯s progress unfurls, flowers, and fades as in a haze. He waits.


    Among the dogs, he has learned to be patient.


    ¡°That which binds you,¡± said the sorcerer, but whether with surprise or recognition she could not tell.


    ¡°I made him a promise.¡± As the vision faded, its passing throbbed in her like a new pain.

 Page 11

    She knew better, she knew what she ought to do, what Da would tell her to do. But none of that mattered. For a year she had thought him dead.


    ¡°I have to go back.¡± Then, hearing the words as if someone else had spoken them, she hurried on. ¡°I¡¯ll come back to you. I swear it. I just have to go back¡ª¡± She trailed off. She knew how foolish she sounded.


    He merely let go of her hand and regarded her. He had no expression on his face except the quiescence of great age. ¡°It is ever such with those who are young. But I do not believe your path will be a smooth one.¡±


    ¡°Then I can come back?¡± Now that she had made the choice, she regretted having to go. But not so much that she could bring herself to stay.


    ¡°I cannot see into the future. Go, then.¡±


    ¡°But there are creatures pursuing me¡ª¡±


    ¡°So many mysteries. So much movement afoot. You must make your choice¡ªthere, or here. The gateway is closing.¡±


    The flames flickered lower until they rippled like a sheen of water trembling along the surface of the stone. If she waited too long, the choice would be made for her.


    She reined the horse around and slapped its rump with the trailing end of her reins. It bolted forward, light surged, and her sight was still hazed with dancing spots and black dots and bright sparks when her shoulder brushed rough stone and they broke out of the ragged circle of stones with a flash of afternoon sun in her eyes.


    Disoriented, she shaded her eyes with a hand until she could make out the road below. It was not yet twilight; an unseasonable chill stung the air. The Bretwald lay beyond the road, alive with birds come to feed at the verge. Crows flocked in the treetops. A vulture spiraled down and landed on a heap of rags that littered the roadside.


    Of the fell creatures that had stalked her, there was no sign.


    What had the old sorcerer said? ¡°The measure of days and years moves differently here than there.¡±


    Had she arrived earlier than she had left? Was that even possible, to wait here beside the road when she was herself riding on that same road, not yet having reached this point? She shook herself and urged the horse forward, looking around cautiously. But nothing stirred. The crows flapped away with raucous cries. The vulture at last bestirred itself and flew, but only to a nearby branch, where it watched as she picked her way up to the roadside and dismounted to examine the litter: a jumble of bones scoured clean; damp tabards wilted on the turf or strewn with pebbles as though a wind had blown over them; and weapons left lying every which way. With her boot she turned over a shield: A white deer¡¯s head stared blankly at her.


    She jumped back, found shelter in the bulk of her horse, who blew noisily into her ear, unimpressed by these remains.


    The men-at-arms she had seen had borne shields marked with a white deer¡¯s head. And she had heard screaming. How long could it have been? It would take months for a body to rot to clean bone.


    The light changed as a scrap of cloud scudded over the sun, and she shivered in the sudden cold. She mounted and rode on, northward, as she had before. As dusk lowered, she studied the heavens with apprehension throbbing in her chest. Stars came out one by one. Above her shone summer¡¯s evening sky. Had she lost an entire year?


    Ahead, a torch flared, and then a second, and she urged her mount forward, smelling a village ahead. A low, square church steeple loomed, cutting off stars. They had not yet closed the palisade gates of the little town, which protected them against wild animals as well as the occasional depredations of what bandits still lurked in the Bretwald. The gatekeeper sent her on to the church, where the deacon kept mats for travelers and a simmering pot of leek stew for the hungry.


    Liath was starving. Her hands shook so badly that she could barely gulp down stew and cider as the deacon watched with mild concern.


    ¡°What day is it?¡± Liath asked when at last her hands came back under her control, and the sting of hunger softened.


    ¡°Today we celebrated the nativity of St. Theodoret, and tomorrow we will sing the mass celebrating the martyrdom of St. Walaricus.¡±


    Today was the nineteenth of Quadrii, then; the day she had fled the creatures had been the eighteenth. For an instant she breathed more easily. Then she remembered the bones, and the party she had almost met on the road.


    ¡°What year?¡±


    ¡°An odd question,¡± said the deacon, but she was a young woman and not inclined to question a King¡¯s Eagle. ¡°It is the year 729 since the Proclamation of the Divine Logos by the blessed Daisan.¡±


    One day later. Only one day. The bones she had seen by the roadside had nothing to do with her, then. They must have lain there for months, picked clean by the crows and the vultures and the small vermin that feed on carrion.

 Page 12

    Only later, rolled up in her blanket on a mat laid down in the dark entry hall of the church, did it occur to her that the clothing left behind with the bones on the roadside was damp but not rotted or torn. Had it lain there for months or years, it, too, would have begun to rot away.


    3


    THE hunting party burst out of the forest and then scattered aimlessly into small groups, having lost the scent. The king rode among a riot of his good companions, all laughing at a comment made by Count Lavastine. Alain had fallen back to the fringe, and now he reined in his horse to watch a trio of young men fishing in the river an arrow¡¯s shot upstream. Hip-deep in water, they flung nets wide over the glittering surface.


    ¡°Alain.¡± Count Lavastine halted beside him. The black hounds snuffled in the grass that edged the cliff, which fell away about a man¡¯s height before hillside met river. A rock, dislodged by Fear, skittered down the slope, stirring up a shower of dust, and the other hounds all barked in a delighted frenzy as they scrambled back.


    ¡°Peace!¡± said Lavastine sternly, and at once they quieted, obedient to his wishes. He turned his gaze to Alain. ¡°You must come ride closer to the king, Son.¡±


    ¡°Their task seems easier than mine.¡± Alain indicated the fishermen below. Stripped down to their breechclouts, the fishermen enjoyed the purl of the water around their bodies and the hot sun on their glistening backs without any thought except for the labor at hand. He heard their laughter ringing up from the distant shore.


    ¡°A drought, a late freeze, a rainy Aogoste. Any of these could ruin their crops.¡±


    ¡°But at least the rivers always breed fish. I¡¯m never quite sure what the noble parties are hunting.¡±


    ¡°You do not like the form of this hunt. But it is one you must learn, and you must learn to judge which party will succeed and which will fail. In this way we make our alliances. The prince favors you.¡±


    ¡°The princess does not.¡±


    ¡°Only because you are favored by the prince.¡±


    ¡°Because I am a bastard, as he is.¡±


    ¡°Were,¡± said Lavastine with a sudden bite to his tone, like a hound¡¯s sharp nip, more warning than attack. ¡°You are legitimately claimed and honored now.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Father,¡± said Alain obediently. ¡°But when she sees me and then sees Lord Geoffrey, it reminds Princess Sapientia that the king may choose another claimant over her when it comes time to anoint his heir.¡± The hounds sat, panting, in the sun: Rage, Sorrow, Ardent, Bliss, and Fear. Terror flopped down. Only Steadfast still sniffed along the verge of the bluff, intent on a scent that did not interest the others. A stone¡¯s toss back from the bluff, King Henry and his companions conferred, pointing toward the dense spur of woodland that thrust here into a scattering of orchard and fields of ripening oats cut into a neat patchwork by hedgerows.


    ¡°I have never much cared for the king¡¯s progress,¡± said Lavastine finally. He, too, looked toward the forest. The bleat of a hunting horn floated on the air.


    ¡°You don¡¯t like the king?¡± asked Alain, daring much since they were alone, unheard except by the hounds.


    Lavastine had a hard, compelling gaze; he turned it on Alain now. ¡°The king stands beyond our likes or dislikes, Alain. I respect him, as he deserves. I hold no grievance against him as long as he leaves me and mine alone¡ªand grants me that which I have won.¡± The flash of approval in his eyes did not extend to his lips. ¡°That which we won at Gent, you and I. There are many young men and some few women who would gladly join the ranks of your entourage, Alain, if you were to show them your favor. You have learned your manners perfectly, and you carry yourself as well¡ªor better¡ªthan most of the young nobles whom we see here at court. You have done well to remain above their games and useless intrigues. But now it is time to build your own retinue.¡±


    Alain sighed. ¡°My foster family brought me up to work and to be proud of that labor. Yet here, should I only gossip and hunt and drink? In truth, Father, I don¡¯t feel at ease in their company. But if I don¡¯t indulge in these amusements, then I fear they¡¯ll think me unworthy.¡±


    Lavastine smiled slightly. ¡°You are not swayed by their levity, as you should not be. You have made a name for yourself in war. Others have noticed that you also apply yourself to the study of scientia. It¡¯s such practical knowledge that will allow you to administer Lavas lands as well as I have done in my time. Your serious manner proves in the eyes of the worthy that you are cast of noble metal.¡±


    The praise embarrassed Alain. He did not feel worthy. Below, the fishermen had hauled their nets out into the shallows and now shouted and whooped with the good cheer of young men who haven¡¯t a care in the world as they tossed fish into baskets that rested on the rocky shore. A few fish slipped from their hands in twisting leaps that spun them back into the river and freedom. But the baskets were by now almost full; their contents churned and slithered, scales flashing in the light like liquid silver.

 Page 13

    The horn rang out again, closer. A large animal erupted from cover and scrambled into the orchard. The king¡¯s huntsmen began shouting all at once, bringing their hunting spears to bear. Lavastine¡¯s hounds sprang up and tore away, only to stop short when Lavastine whistled piercingly. They barked furiously as a huge boar appeared in the distance beneath the shelter of a cluster of apple trees.


    At that moment, two parties of about equal numbers galloped free of the woods, one from the southern edge of the spur of woodland and the other from its center. Princess Sapientia led the first party. Her banner rippled blue and white from a lance carried by a servant, and her companions thundered along beside her so colorfully outfitted that they obliterated the serenity of cultivated land. Some few even jumped hedgerows and trampled fields in their haste to reach the boar before the other party did.


    That other party had come clear of the woodland closer to the hunted beast, but their leader made such a clear point of avoiding any stands of oat and bypassing one stoutly growing field of beans that they closed on the boar from the north just as Princess Sapientia and her entourage circled in from the south. For an instant the two parties faced each other, as do enemy forces in a skirmish: the princess small and fierce on a skittish gelding rather too large for her; her half brother so at his ease with a hunting spear in one hand and the other light on the reins of a magnificent gray that he seemed to shine under the glare of the sun.


    The king raised a hand, and his own companions paused, holding back. Everyone watched. The boar bolted away toward the river, the only stretch of open ground left to it.


    At once, Prince Sanglant galloped after it, leaving his party behind. He had so much natural grace that Sapientia, racing after him, had somewhat the appearance of a mongrel chasing a sleek greyhound. No one rode after them: to the victor, the spoils.


    Sanglant broke wide to drive the boar back from the bluff and cut in from behind. Then he deliberately reined up to let Sapientia take the kill, as if it were her prerogative. As if he did not want what he could easily take.


    She saw only his hesitation, his turning aside. The boar bunched, charged; she thrust at its ribs and lodged the point of her spear behind its front shoulder, but the beast got under her horse and the horse went crazy, bucking while she clung to the saddle.


    Huntsmen came running, their brindle boarhounds coursing ahead. Sanglant vaulted off his horse and sprinted for the wounded beast. It saw his movement, and in its blind fear and fury charged him. Distantly, Alain heard King Henry cry out. But the prince only braced himself, showing no fear. The boar impaled itself on his spearpoint and drove itself into the lugs. Sanglant plunged his dagger into its eye to kill it.


    Sapientia had calmed her horse and now claimed first blood. The boarhounds leaped yelping and biting in a mob around the dead boar, but they slunk back, whimpering, ears pinned down, as Prince Sanglant laid about him with his fist, battering them back as if he were the beast being hunted.


    Only when the other riders approached did he shake himself, like a dog newly come from water, and step away to become a man again, tall and handsome in his fine embroidered tunic and leggings with a gold brooch clasping a short half-cloak across his broad shoulders. Yet the iron collar he wore at his neck instead of a gold torque of royal kinship looked incongruous; that, and the odd habit he had of scenting like a hound for smells on the air and of starting ¡¯round like a wild animal at unexpected movement behind him.


    Princess Sapientia cut over to Prince Sanglant, but before she could swing down beside him, she was distracted by her chief adviser, Father Hugh. With elegant grace he lured her away to the heady congratulations of her entourage.


    ¡°There is one at least,¡± said Lavastine softly, watching the scene through narrowed eyes, ¡°who wishes for no reconciliation between brother and sister.¡±


    After twenty days riding with the king¡¯s progress, Alain could not bring himself to like, trust, or even respect the handsome, charming, and ingenious Father Hugh. But he felt obliged to be fair. ¡°Father Hugh is well spoken of by everyone at court. Everyone says his influence has benefited the princess immeasurably.¡±


    ¡°Certainly his manners are excellent, and his mother is a powerful prince. I would not like to make an enemy of him. Nevertheless, he has thrown his weight behind Sapientia, and all that influence comes to naught if she does not become regnant after her father.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t like him because of what he did to Liath,¡± muttered Alain.


    Lavastine raised an eyebrow and regarded his son skeptically. ¡°You have only her word¡ªthat of a kinless Eagle¡ªthat he behaved as she describes. In any case, if she was his legal slave, then he could do what he wished with her.¡± That easily he dismissed Liath¡¯s fears and terrors. ¡°Still, the Eagle has uncommon gifts. Keep an eye on her, if you will. We may yet use her again to our advantage.¡±

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    Prince Sanglant had retreated to the river, away from the kill and the commotion. His new hangers-on, uncertain of his temper as always, kept a safe distance although they made an obvious effort to distinguish themselves from those who flocked around Sapientia. The prince stood on the verge where the bluff plunged away to the water. The fishermen had stopped to stare at the sight of a noble lord and his fine retinue.


    ¡°He¡¯ll go in,¡± said Alain suddenly, and as if his words¡ªsurely too distant for the prince to hear¡ªtriggered the action, Sanglant abruptly began to strip at the bluff¡¯s edge.


    Tittering came from Sapienta¡¯s entourage. They had seen this behavior before: Prince Sanglant had a mania for washing himself. But to be without clothing in such a public setting was to be without the dignity and honor granted one by noble birth. Only common folk making ready to wash themselves or to labor on a hot day would as unthinkingly strip before all and sundry as kneel before God to pray.


    The prince left his clothing on the ground and scrambled down the slope into the water. He had an astonishing number of white scars on his body, but he had begun to fill out. Alain could no longer count his ribs.


    As the wind turned and positions shifted, Alain heard Father Hugh¡¯s pleasant voice on the breeze. ¡°Alas, and like some dogs, he¡¯ll leap into any body of water if not restrained. Come, Your Highness. This is not fitting.¡±


    Sapientia¡¯s party retreated to the woodland while the huntsmen dealt with the kill, although some few of the ladies with her could not resist a backward glance.


    Lavastine sighed audibly. A flurry of movement came from within the king¡¯s party as certain riders¡ªmostly women¡ªmade to leave with Princess Sapientia¡¯s party while others, including the king, began to dismount.


    ¡°Come,¡± said Lavastine as he signaled to his attendants. ¡°I return now to the king. Alain, you must choose your place as you think fit.¡±


    By this time half a dozen of Prince Sanglant¡¯s entourage had begun to strip, to follow him into the water, and Alain saw that the king meant to bathe as well, as if to lend royal sanction to his son¡¯s action.


    Alain felt it prudent to stay near the king, so he followed Lavastine and in this way was able to jest with several young lords whom he had befriended. Steadfast forged ahead, still on a scent. She growled, and Fear padded forward to snuffle in the grass beside her.


    Where the bluff gave way to a negotiable embankment, servants had come forward to hack through brush clinging to the slope to make a path for the king down to the water. The prince, waist-deep in the sluggish current, now plunged in over his head and struck out for the opposite shore. Upstream, the fishermen collected their baskets and made ready to leave. They lingered to stare as the king made his way down the embankment and left his rich clothing to the care of his servants while he took to the cool water. The splashing and shouting and laughter had long since drowned out any sound of Sapientia¡¯s party as it retreated into the forest.


    ¡°Do you mean to come in, Son?¡± Lavastine swung down off his horse. As soon as the count¡¯s feet touched the ground, Terror tried to herd the count away from a thicket of brambles while the other hounds set up such a racket of barking that the prince paused half out on the opposite shore to turn and see what the commotion was, and King Henry spoke a word to an attendant who scrambled back up the embankment.


    ¡°Peace!¡± Lavastine frowned at the hounds, who swarmed around him more like puppies frightened by thunder than loyal fighting hounds.


    A creature rustled in the thicket. The hounds went wild. Terror closed his jaw over the count¡¯s hand and tugged him backward while Steadfast and Fear leaped into the brambles, teeth snapping on empty air. Hackles up, Sorrow and Rage circled the bramble bush and Ardent and Bliss tore up and down between Lavastine and the thicket.


    But there was nothing there.


    ¡°Peace!¡± snapped Lavastine. He so disliked it when his orders were not obeyed instantly.


    Steadfast yelped suddenly, a cry of pain. The other hounds went into such a wild frenzy around the thicket that servants and noblemen scattered in fear, and then the hounds spun and snapped and bolted away as if in hot pursuit, the entire pack running downstream along the embankment.


    ¡°Alain! Follow them!¡±


    Alain quickly followed the hounds, with only a single servant in attendance. The hounds ran far ahead now, scrambling in a fluid, furious pack down to a rocky stretch of beach. He glanced back in time to see Lavastine strip and make his careful way¡ªas had the other courtiers before him¡ªdown the slope to the river. While the younger men braved the crossing to follow after the prince, the king and his mature councillors took their ease in the shallow water and talked no doubt of Gent and the Eika and recent reports of Quman raids in the east and certain marriage alliances that must be accepted or declined.

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    The hounds had disappeared, so Alain broke into a trot and found them clustered just around the river¡¯s bend on the last strip of narrow beach. Stiff-legged, they barked at the water. Alain thought he saw a flash of something tiny and white struggling in the current. Then, slowly, their barking subsided into growls, growls to silence, and the hounds relaxed into a steady vigilance as they regarded the flowing river.


    Had he only imagined that flash of movement? The sun made metal of the water as it streamed along. Its bright flash made Alain¡¯s eyes tear, and he blinked rapidly, but that only made the water shimmer and flow in uncanny forms like the shift of a slick and scaly back seen beneath the waves or the swift passage of a ship along a canyon of water.


    Ahead lies the smoke of home, the cradle of his tribe. Who has arrived before him? Will he and his soldiers have to fight just to set foot on shore, or has he come first to make his claim before OldMother so that she may prepare the knife of decision?


    The fjord waters mirror the deep blush of the heavens, the powerful blue of the afternoon sky. The waters are so still that each tree along the shore lies mirrored in their depths. Off to one side a merman¡¯s slick back parts the water and a ruddy eye takes their measure; then, with a flick of its tail, the creature vanishes into the seamless depths.


    Teeth closed on his hand and, coming to himself, he looked down to see Sorrow pulling on him to get his attention. Only three hounds remained; the others had vanished. He started around to see his attendant sitting cross-legged, arms relaxed, as if he¡¯d been waiting a long time.


    ¡°My lord!¡± The man jumped up. ¡°The other hounds ran back to the count, and I didn¡¯t, know how to stop them, but you was so still for so long I didn¡¯t know how to interrupt you¡­.¡± Trailing off, he glanced nervously at the remaining hounds: Sorrow, Rage, and poor Steadfast, who sat whimpering and licking her right forepaw.


    ¡°No matter.¡± Alain took Steadfast¡¯s paw into his hand to examine it. A bramble thorn had bitten deep into the flesh, and he gentled her with his tone and then got hold of the thorn and pulled it out. She whimpered, then set to work licking again.


    A flash of dead white out in the streaming flow of the river distracted him. Downstream, a fish appeared, belly up. Dead. Then a second, a third, and a fourth appeared farther downstream yet, dead white bellies turned up to sun and air, gleaming corpses drawn seaward by the current. Beyond that he could make out only light on the water.


    Rage growled.


    ¡°My lord.¡± The servant had brought his horse.


    But he walked back instead, to keep an eye on Steadfast. The thorn had done no lasting damage. Soon she was loping along with the others in perfect good humor, biting and nipping at her cousins in play. Alain would have laughed to see them; it was, after all, a pleasant and carefree day.


    But when, across the river, he saw the fishermen trudging home with their baskets full of plump fish, the image of the dead fish caught in the current flashed into his mind¡¯s eye and filled him with a troubling foreboding¡ªonly he did not know why.


    4


    THE quiet that pervaded the inner court of the palace of Weraushausen had such a soothing effect, combined with the heat of the sun, that Liath drowsed on the stone bench where she waited even though she wasn¡¯t tired. Fears and hopes mingled to become a tangled dream: Da¡¯s murder, Hugh, the curse of fire, Hanna¡¯s loyalty and love, Ivar¡¯s pledge, the shades of dead elves, Lord Alain and the friendship he had offered her, the death of Bloodheart, Sister Rosvita and The Book of Secrets, daimones hunting her and, more vivid than all the others, the tangible memory of Sanglant¡¯s hair caught in her fingers there by the stream where he had scoured away the filth of his captivity.


    She started up, heart pounding; she was hot, embarrassed, dismayed, and breathless with hope all at once.


    She could not bear to think of him because she wanted only to think of him. A bee droned past. The gardener who weeded in the herb garden had moved to another row. No one had come to summon her. She did not know how much longer she would have to wait.


    She walked to the well with its shingled roof and whitewashed stone rim. The draft of air rising from the depths smelled of fresh water and damp stone. The deacon who cared for the chapel here had told her that a spring fed the wells; before the coming of the Daisanite fraters to these lands a hundred years ago its source had rested hidden in rocks and been worshiped as a goddess by the heathen tribes. Now a stone cistern contained it safely beneath the palace.


    Was that the glint of water in the depths? if she looked hard enough with her salamander eyes, would she see in that mirror the face of the man she would marry, as old herbwomen claimed? Or was that only pagan superstition, as the church mothers wrote?

 Page 16

    She drew back, suddenly afraid to see anything, and stepped out from the shadow of the little roof into the blast of the noonday sun.


    ¡°I will never love any man but him.¡± Was it that pledge which had bound her four days ago in the circle of stones where she¡¯d crossed through an unseen gateway and ridden into unknown lands? Had she really been foolish enough to turn away from the learning offered to her by the old sorcerer?


    She shaded her eyes from the sun and sat again on the bench. It had heavy feet fashioned in the likeness of a lion¡¯s paws, carved of a reddish-tinged marble. That same marble had been used for the pillars lining the inner court.


    Because the king was not now in residence at Weraushausen, a mere Eagle like herself could sit in the court usually reserved for the king rather than stand attendance upon him. It was so quiet that she could believe for this while in the peace that God are said to grant to the tranquil soul¡ªnot that such peace was ever likely to be granted to her.


    A sudden scream tore the silence, followed by laughter and the pounding of running feet.


    ¡°Nay, children. Walk with dignity. Slow down!¡±


    The children of the king¡¯s schola had arrived to take their midday exercise, some more sedately than others. Liath watched as they tumbled out into the sunlight. She envied these children their freedom to study, their knowledge of their kin, and their future position in the king¡¯s court. One boy climbed a plinth and swung, dangling, from the legs of the old statue set there, an ancient Dariyan general.


    ¡°Lord Adelfred! Come down off there. I beg you!¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s the Eagle,¡± said the boy, jumping down. ¡°Why couldn¡¯t we hear her report about the battle at Gent?¡±


    Next to the statue stood Ekkehard, the king¡¯s youngest child. He resembled his father although he had the slenderness of youth. At this moment, he wore a sullen expression as if it were as fine an adornment as his rich clothing and gem-studded rings, in sharp contrast to the austere expression of the stone soldier. ¡°I asked if I could ride back with her, to my father,¡± he said, ¡°but it wasn¡¯t allowed.¡±


    ¡°We must be going back to the king¡¯s court soon,¡± retorted the other boy, looking alarmed. By the slight burr in the way he pronounced his Wendish, Liath guessed he was from Avaria, perhaps one of Duke Burchard¡¯s many nephews. ¡°King Henry can¡¯t mean to leave us here forever! I¡¯m to get my retinue next year and ride east to fight the Quman!¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t matter, forever,¡± muttered Prince Ekkehard. He had a sweet voice; Liath had heard him sing quite beautifully last night. In daylight, without a lute in his hand, he merely looked restless and ill-tempered. ¡°Soon I¡¯ll be fifteen and have my own retinue, too, and then I won¡¯t be treated like a child. Then I can do what I want.¡±


    ¡°Eagle.¡±


    Liath started to her feet and turned, expecting to see a cleric come to escort her to Cleric Monica. But she saw only the top of a black-haired head.


    ¡°Do you know who I am?¡± asked the child. For an instant it was like staring into a mirror and seeing a small shadow of herself, although they looked nothing alike except in complexion.


    ¡°You are Duke Conrad¡¯s daughter,¡± said Liath.


    The girl took hold of Liath¡¯s wrist and turned over the Eagle¡¯s hand to see the lighter skin of the palm. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anyone but my father, my avia¡ªmy grandmother, that is¡ªand my sister and myself with such skin. I did see a slave once, in the retinue of a presbyter. They said she had been born in the land of the Gyptos, but she was dark as pitch. Where do your kinfolk come from?¡±


    ¡°From Darre,¡± said Liath, amused by her blithe arrogance.


    The child regarded her with an imperious expression. ¡°You just rode in from the king¡¯s progress. Has there been news? My mother, Lady Eadgifu, should have had her baby by now, but no one will tell me anything.¡±


    ¡°I have heard no news of your mother.¡±


    The girl glanced toward the other children. Ekkehard and his companion had moved off to toss dice in the shadow of the colonnade, and the others kept their distance. Only the old statue remained, like a trusted companion. He had once held a sword, but it was missing. Flecks of blue still colored his eyes, and in the sheltered curve of his elbow and the deeper folds of the cloak spun out in folds of stone from his left shoulder Liath could see the stain of gold paint not yet worn away by wind and weather. Lichen grew on his stone sandals and between his toes.


    Was it not said that the Dariyan emperors and empresses and their noble court were the half-breed descendants of the Lost Ones? This stone general looked a little like Sanglant.

 Page 17

    ¡°I¡¯m a prisoner here, you know,¡± the girl added without heat. She had the rounded profile of youth, blurred still by baby-fat and the promise of later growth, but a distinctly self-aware expression for all that. No more than nine or ten, she already understood the intricate dance of court intrigue. With a sigh, the child released Liath¡¯s hand and turned half away. ¡°I still miss Berthold,¡± she murmured. ¡°He was the only one who paid attention to me.¡±


    ¡°Who is Berthold?¡± asked Liath, intrigued by the yearning in the girl¡¯s voice.


    But the girl only glanced at her, as if surprised¡ªas Hugh would say¡ªto hear a dog speak.


    A cleric hurried up the central colonnade and beckoned to Liath; she followed her into the palace. In a spacious wood-paneled chamber Cleric Monica sat at one end of a long table otherwise inhabited by clerics only half awake, writing with careful strokes or yawning while a scant breeze stirred the air. The shutters had been taken down. Through the windows Liath could see a corral for horses and beyond that the berm of earth that was part of the fortifications. Wildflowers bloomed along the berm, purple and pale yellow. Goats grazed on the steep slope.


    ¡°Come forward.¡± Cleric Monica spoke in a low voice. The clerics worked in silence, and only the distant bleat of a goat and an occasional shout from one of the children penetrated the room, and yet there lay between them all a companionable air as if this hush reflected labor done willingly together, with one heart and one striving. Two letters and several parchment documents lay at Monica¡¯s right hand. ¡°Here is a letter for Sister Rosvita from Mother Rothgard at St. Valeria Convent. Here are four royal capitularies completed by the clerics at the king¡¯s order. To King Henry relate this message: the schola will leave Weraushausen in two days¡¯ time and travel south to meet him at Thersa, as His Majesty commands. Do you understand the whole?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Now.¡± Cleric Monica beckoned to a tiny deacon almost as old as Monica herself. Liath towered over the old woman. ¡°Deacon Ansfrida.¡±


    Deacon Ansfrida had a lisp which, combined with the hauteur of a noblewoman, gave her an air of slightly ridiculous abstraction. ¡°There has been a new road built through the forest. If you follow it, it should save you four days of riding time toward Thersa.¡±


    ¡°Is it safe to ride through the forest?¡±


    Neither churchwoman appeared surprised by the question. The forests lay outside the grasp of the church; they were wild lands still. ¡°I have heard no reports that the levy set to do the work met with any difficulty. Since the Eika came last year, we have been peculiarly untroubled by bandits.¡±


    ¡°What of other creatures?¡±


    Cleric Monica gave a little breath, a voiced ¡°ah¡± that trailed away to blend with the shuffling of feet and the scratch of pens. But the deacon gave Liath a strange look. ¡°Certainly one must watch out for wolves,¡± replied Ansfrida. ¡°Is that what you mean?¡±


    Better, Liath realized, to have asked the forests that question and not good women of the church. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s what I mean,¡± she said quickly.


    ¡°You may wait outside,¡± said Cleric Monica crisply. ¡°A servant will bring you a horse.¡±


    Thus dismissed, Liath retreated, relieved to get out from under Monica¡¯s searching eye. Beyond the palace she found a log bench to sit on. Here she waited again. The palace lay enclosed by berms of more recent construction; in one place where ditch and earth wall stood now, she could see the remains of an old building that had been torn up and dug through when the fortification was put in. The palace loomed before her. With windows set high in its walls and six towers hugging the semicircular side like sentries, it appeared from the outside more like a fort than a palace. A jumble of outbuildings lay scattered within the protecting berms. A woman stood outside the cookhouse, searing a side of beef over a smoking pit. A servant boy slept half hidden in the grass.


    Without the king in residence, Weraushausen was a peaceful place. From the chapel, she heard a single female voice raised in prayer for the service of Sext, and in distant fields men sang in robust chorus as they worked under the hot sun. Crickets buzzed. Beyond the river lay the great green shoulder of the untamed forest; a buzzard¡ªscarcely more than a black speck¡ªsoared along its outermost fringe.


    What would it be like to live in such peace?


    She flipped open her saddlebags. The letters were sealed with wax and stamped with tiny figures. She recognized the seal from St. Valeria Convent at once by the miniature orrery, symbol of St. Valeria¡¯s victory in the city of Sa?s when she confounded the pagan astrologers. Liath dared not open the letter, of course. Did it contain news of Princess Theophanu? Had she recovered from her illness, or did this letter bring news of her death? Was Mother Rothgard writing to warn Sister Rosvita that a sorcerer walked veiled in the king¡¯s progress? Would Rosvita suspect Liath? Or would she suspect Hugh?

 Page 18

    Liath glanced through the capitularies: King Henry grants to the nuns of Regensbach a certain estate named Felstatt for which they owe the king and his heirs full accommodation and renders of food and drink for the royal retinue as well as fodder for the horses at such times as the king¡¯s progress may pass that way; King Henry endows a monastery at Gent in the name of St. Perpetua in thanks for the victory at Gent and the return of his son; King Henry grants immunity from all but royal service to the foresters of the Bretwald in exchange for keeping the new road through the Bret Forest clear; King Henry calls the elders of the church to a council at Autun on the first day of the month of Setentre, which in the calendar of the church is called Matthiasmass.


    That day, according to the mathematici, was the autumn equinox.


    Ai, God. If she held The Book of Secrets, could she open it freely here? Would she ever live in a place where there was leisure, and such safety as this palace offered? Was there any place she could study the secrets of the mathematici, wander in her city of memory, explore the curse of fire, and be left alone?


    She laughed softly, a mixture of anger, regret, and giddy desire. Such a place had been offered her, when she had least expected it, and she had turned away in pursuit of a dream just as impossible.


    A man emerged from the palace gateway leading a saddled horse, a sturdy bay mare with a white blaze and two white socks. She took the reins, thanked him politely, and went on her way.


    5


    AS the deacon had promised, the road ran straight east through the Bretwald. Birds trilled from the branches. A doe and half-grown twin fawns trotted into view and as quickly vanished into the foliage. She heard the grunt of a boar. She peered into the depths beyond the scar that was the road. Trees marched out on all sides into unknowable and impenetrable wilderness. The scent of growing lay over everything as heavily as spices at the king¡¯s feasting table. Like a rich mead, she could almost taste it simply by breathing it in.


    But she could no longer ride through the deep forest without looking over her shoulder. She could not forget the daimone that had stalked her, or the creature of bells. She could not forget the elfshot that had killed her horse this past spring, although that pursuit had taken place in a different forest than this one. Yet surely all forests were only pieces of the same great and ancient forest. She had traveled enough to know that the wild places on earth were of far greater extent than those lands tamed by human hands.


    There.


    An aurochs bolted through the distant trees. Its curving horns caught a stray glance of sunlight, vivid, disturbing, and then it was gone. The noise of its passage faded into the heavier silence of the forest, which was not a true silence at all but rather woven of a hundred tiny sounds that blended so seamlessly as to make of themselves that kind of silence which has forgotten, or does not know of or care about, the chatter of human enterprise.


    As the last rustle of the aurochs¡¯ passing faded, Liath heard, quite clearly, the clop of hooves behind her. She swung round in her saddle but could see nothing. What if it were Hugh?


    Ai, Lady! That bastard Hugh had no reason to follow her. He would wait in the safety of the king¡¯s progress because he knew she had to return to the king. She had no freedom of her own to choose where she went and how she lived; she was a mere Eagle living on the sufferance of the king, and that was all and everything she had, her only safety, her only kin.


    ¡°Except Sanglant,¡± she whispered. If she said his name too loudly, would she wake herself up from a long and almost painful dream and find the prince still dead at Gent and herself sobbing by a dying fire?


    The sound of hooves faded as a wind came up, stirring the upper branches into movement punctuated by the eruption into flight of a dozen noisy wood pigeons. That suddenly, she saw a flash of red far back in the dim corridor of the road. At once she slipped her bow free of its quiver and drew an arrow to rest loosely along the curve of the bow.


    A branch snapped to her left and she started ¡¯round, but nothing showed itself in the thickets. What use was running, anyway? She and Da had scuttled from shadow to shadow, but in the end his enemies had caught them.


    She reined up her horse and peered into every thicket and out along an unexpected vista of tree trunks marching away into shadow like so many pillars lining the aisles of a cathedral. Nothing. What approached came from the road. And she heard no tolling of bells.


    Yet her face was flushed and she was sweating. She nocked her arrow and waited. A King¡¯s Eagle expected respect and safe passage. She had endured so much, she had escaped from Hugh twice.


    She was strong enough to face down this enemy.


    As the rider came clear of the shadow of the trees, she drew down on a figure dressed in ordinary clothing marked only by a gray cloak trimmed with scarlet. A familiar badge winked at his throat.

 Page 19

    ¡°Wolfhere!¡±


    He laughed and, when he came close enough, called to her. ¡°I¡¯ll thank you not to look quite so intimidating with that arrow aimed at my heart.¡±


    Startled, she lowered the bow. ¡°Wolfhere!¡± she repeated, too dumbfounded to say anything else.


    ¡°I had hoped to catch you before nightfall.¡± He reined in beside her. ¡°No one likes to pass through the forest alone.¡± He rode a surly-looking gelding. Her own mare, sensing trouble, gave a nip to the gelding¡¯s hindquarters to let it know at once which of them took precedence.


    ¡°You¡¯ve ridden all the way from Darre,¡± she said stupidly, still too amazed to think.


    ¡°That I have,¡± he agreed mildly. He pressed his gelding forward into a walk and Liath rode beside him.


    ¡°It took Hanna months to track down the king, and it¡¯s only the twenty-fifth day of Quadrii.¡±


    ¡°That it is, the feast day of St. Placidana, she who brought the Circle of Unities to the goblinkin of the Harenz Mountains.¡± She saw immediately that he was trying not to smile.


    ¡°But you know perfectly well that no passes over the Alfar Mountains are clear until early summer. How did you get to Weraushausen so quickly?¡±


    He slanted a glance at her, eyes serious, mouth quirking up. ¡°I knew where the king was.¡±


    ¡°You looked for him through fire.¡±


    ¡°So I did. It was a mild winter, and I made my way across the Julier Pass earlier than I had hoped. I watched through fire when I could. I know Wendar well, Liath. I followed the king¡¯s progress with that vision and saw where they were bound. Once I saw that King Henry had left the children of the schola at Werauschausen, I knew he would have to return by that way or at the least send a message by one of his Eagles, who would know what route he planned to take. I had hoped it might be you.¡±


    How much had he seen of her? Did he know Hugh was tormenting her again? Had he seen her burn down the palace at Augensburg, or fight the lost shades in the forest east of Laar, or kill Bloodheart? Had he heard Sanglant¡¯s words to her? Had he seen her cross through the gateway of burning stone?


    As if he read her thoughts in her expression, he spoke again. ¡°Although I couldn¡¯t be sure you still rode with the king¡¯s progress and not with Princess Theophanu or on some other errand. You are difficult to vision through fire, Liath. It¡¯s as if there¡¯s a haze about you, concealing you. I suppose Bernard laid some kind of spell over you to hide you. I¡¯m surprised the effect has survived so long after his death.¡±


    Like a challenge, the words seemed to hang in the air between them. They rode some paces in silence while in the branches above the purring coo of turtledoves serenaded them and was left behind.


    ¡°You strike straight to heart of the matter, and at once, do you not?¡±


    ¡°Alas, I¡¯m not usually accused of such a weakness.¡± His tone was dry and his smile brief. ¡°To what do you refer, my child?¡±


    She laughed, light-headed, a little dizzy. ¡°I don¡¯t trust you, Wolfhere. Maybe I never will. But I¡¯m grateful to you for saving me at Heart¡¯s Rest. And I¡¯m not afraid of you anymore.¡±


    This time the smile sparked in his eyes, a pale flicker in gray.


    She did not wait for his answer but went on, determined to bring it all to light immediately. ¡°Why were you looking for me? Why did you save me at Heart¡¯s Rest?¡±


    He blinked. She had surprised him. ¡°When you were born, I promised Anne that I would look after you. I had been looking for you and your father for eight years, ever since you disappeared. I knew you were in danger.¡± He looked away to the verge where road and forest met and intertwined. When he frowned, lines creased his forehead, and she could see how old he truly was; she had seen only a handful of people whom she supposed to be older than Wolfhere, and certainly none of them had been as hale and vigorous. What magic made him so strong although he was so old? Or was it magic at all but rather the kiss of Lady Fortune, who for her own fickle reasons blessed some with vigor while inflicting feebleness upon others? ¡°Had I found you earlier,¡± he continued, still not looking at her, ¡°Bernard would not have died.¡±


    ¡°You could have protected us?¡± He had not seen Da¡¯s body or the two arrows stuck uselessly in the wall.


    ¡°Only Our Lady and Lord see all that has happened and all that will happen.¡± A jay cried harshly and fluttered away from the path, its rump a flash of white among dense green. He turned his gaze away from his contemplation of a riot of flowering brambles that twined along the roadside, and with that pale keen gaze regarded her again. ¡°What of you, Liath? Have you been well? You seem stronger.¡±

 Page 20

    Did he understand the fire she held within her, which Da had tried to protect her from? She didn¡¯t want him to see its existence, her knowledge of its existence, as if some change in her might betray it to his penetrating gaze; she was sure he watched her so keenly to see what she might unwittingly reveal. Da always said there were two ways to hide: to scuttle from shadow to shadow, or to talk in plain sight on a busy road at midday. ¡°Talk too much about nothing, or be silent about everything,¡± he would say, but Wolfhere couldn¡¯t be misled by babble, and she no longer dared hide behind silence. Once she had thought silence would shield her. Now she knew that ignorance was more dangerous than knowledge.


    ¡°I was afraid to ask you questions before,¡± she said finally, not without a catch in her voice. ¡°Even though I wanted to know about Da and about my mother. I was afraid you would make me tell you things. That you were one of the ones hunting us. But I know you were one of the ones hunting us.¡±


    ¡°I would not have phrased it so: ¡®hunting¡¯ you.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you named for the wolf. Doesn¡¯t the wolf hunt?¡±


    ¡°The wolf does what it must. Unlike humankind, it only kills when it is threatened, or when it is hungry¡ªand then only as much as it needs.¡±


    ¡°How did you come to know my mother and father?¡±


    ¡°Our paths crossed.¡± He smiled grimly, remembering as well as she did the conversation, more like a sparring contest, they had had last spring in the tower at Steleshame. ¡°What do you know of magic, Liath?¡±


    ¡°Not enough!¡± She reconsidered these rash words, then added, ¡°Enough to keep silent on that subject. I¡¯ve only your word that you made a promise to my mother to protect me. But she¡¯s dead, and Da never once mentioned your name. Why should I trust you?¡±


    He looked pained, as at a trust betrayed or a kindness spurned. ¡°Because your mother¡ª¡± Then he broke off.


    She waited. There was more than one kind of silence: that of the indifferent forest; that of a man hesitant to speak and a woman waiting to hear a truth; the silence that is choked by fear or that which wells up from a pure spring of joy. This silence spread from him into the forest; the sudden stillness of birds at an unexpected presence walking among them; the hush that descends when the sun¡¯s face is shrouded by cloud. His face had too much weight in it, as at a decision come to after a hard fight.


    When he finally spoke, he said what she had never expected to hear. ¡°Your mother isn¡¯t dead.¡±


    6


    TEN steps, perhaps twelve, on a path through a dessicated forest whose branches rattled in a howling wind brought Zacharias and the woman to another hard bend in the path. Coming around it, coils of air whipped at his face as he followed the Aoi woman through a bubble of heat. The ground shifted under him, and suddenly he slipped down a pebbly slope and found himself slogging through calf-deep drifts of sand. The horse struggled behind him, and he had to haul on it to get it up a crumbling slope to where the Aoi woman stood on a pathway marked out in black stone. Barren land lay everywhere around them, nothing but sun and sand and the narrow path that cut sharply to the right.


    Disorientation shook him, his vision hazed, and when he could see again, they walked through forest, although here the trees looked different, denser than that first glimpse of forest he had seen, like moving from the land where the short-grass grows to the borderwild beyond which the tall grass of the wilderness shrouds the earth and any who walk in its shadow.


    The Aoi woman spoke in a sharp whisper, holding up a hand to stop them. Zacharias yanked the horse to a halt. In the distance, he heard a moaning horn call and saw a green-and-gold flash in the vegetation; someone was on the move out in the forest. They waited for what seemed an eternity, although Zacharias drew perhaps twenty breaths.


    ¡°Hei!¡± said the woman, waving him forward. She looked nervous, and her pace was brisk.


    This time when the path veered left, Zacharias knew what to expect. The ground shifted, but he kept his balance, only to lose it as his boots sloshed in water and a salty wind stung his lips. Water lapped his ankles. He looked up in surprise to see waves surging all the way to the horizon. He staggered and barely caught himself on the horse¡¯s neck. Where had all this water come from? Where did it end?


    On his other side, mercifully, lay a long strand of pebbles and beyond it hummocks of grass and scrub. A gleaming path shone under the water, cast in bronze.


    ¡°What is this place?¡± he whispered. The woman did not answer.


    The ghost lands, his grandmother would have said. The spirit world. Was he dead?

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    The path veered right, and the Aoi woman disappeared into a dense bank of fog. Zacharias shook off his fear and followed her to where light streamed in the mist, a fire flaming blue-white and searing his face with its heat¡ªand then it vanished.


    He sucked in a breath of grass-laden air and collapsed to his knees next to a dead campfire. Water puddled from his robes and soaked onto the earth. An instant later he gulped, recognizing their surroundings. They had come back to the very stone circle where the witch had defeated Bulkezu. He groped for the knife, then saw the sky and hissed his surprise through his teeth.


    It was night, and the waning gibbous moon laid bare the bones of the stone circle and the long horizon of grass, a pale silver expanse under moonlight.


    Four turns on an unearthly path had brought them not to a different place but back to the same place at a different time.


    He knelt beside the old campfire and stirred the cold ashes with a finger. Chaff had settled there together with a drying flower petal. ¡°Six days, perhaps seven,¡± he said aloud, touching ash to his tongue. He looked up, suddenly afraid that she would punish him for his fear ¡­ or for his knowledge. But if she had meant to kill him, surely she would have done so by now. ¡°Did we walk through the ghost lands?¡± he asked.


    She stood beneath a lintel, gazing west over the plain. Bulkezu¡¯s jacket, laid over her shoulders, gave her the look of a Quman boy.


    But she was no boy.


    She lifted her spear toward the heavens and spoke incomprehensible words, calling, praying, commanding: Who could know? As she swayed, her leather skirt swayed, as supple as the finest calfskin.


    Except it wasn¡¯t calfskin.


    ¡°Ah¡ªAh¡ªAh¡ª! Lady!¡± Terror hung hitches into his words, forced out of him by shock.


    The skirt she wore wasn¡¯t sewn of calfskin, nor of deerskin. It wasn¡¯t animal skin at all.


    Under the lintel, the Aoi woman turned to look at him. Her leather skirt slipped gracefully around her, such a fine bronze sheen to it that it almost seemed to shimmer in the moonlight.


    ¡°Human skin,¡± he breathed. The words died away onto the night breeze, then were answered by hers.


    ¡°You who were once called Zacharias-son-of-Elseva-and-Volusianus. I have taken your blood into my blood. You are bound to me now, and at last I have seen how you can be of service to me and my cause.¡±


    7


    ALIVE.


    At first Liath could only ride silent along the newly-cut road while the riot of forest tangled around her until she felt utterly confused. Why had Da lied to her? Had he even known? Ai, Lady. Why couldn¡¯t it be Da who still lived, instead of her mother?


    At once she knew the thought for a sin. But her mother existed so distantly from her that she could grasp no feeling for that memory which came in the wake of Wolfhere¡¯s words more as dream than remembrance: a courtyard and herb garden, a stone bench carved with eagle claws, a slippery memory of silent servants half hidden in the shadows. Of her mother she recalled little except that her hair had been as pale as straw and her skin as light as if sun never touched it, although she remembered sitting sometimes for entire afternoons in the bright sun of an Aostan summer, a light more pure than beaten gold.


    ¡°You knew all the time.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he said curtly. ¡°I only discovered it now, on my journey to Aosta.¡±


    ¡°Hanna didn¡¯t tell me.¡±


    ¡°She had already left me to return to King Henry with news of Biscop Antonia¡¯s escape.¡±


    ¡°Did you tell my mother you found me? Did you tell her Da was killed? What did she say?¡±


    ¡°She said I must bring you to her as soon as I can.¡±


    ¡°But where is she now?¡±


    Finally he shook his head. ¡°I dare not say, Liath. I must take you to her myself. There are others looking for you¡ªand for her.¡±


    ¡°The ones who killed Da.¡±


    His silence was answer enough.


    ¡°Ai, Lady.¡± She knew herself to be a young woman now, having left the last of her girl¡¯s innocence behind when Da had been killed and Hugh had taken her as his slave; she knew she must appear different to his eyes than she had on that day over a year ago when they had parted in Autun. She had grown, filled out, gotten stronger. But Wolfhere might have aged not a single day in the last year for all she could see any difference in him. White of hair, keen of eye, with the same imperturbable expression that all wise old souls wore in order to confound youthful rashness, he had weathered much in his life that she could only guess at. Surely it took some remarkable action for a common-born man to make an enemy of a king, for kings did not need to take notice of those so far beneath them in all but God¡¯s grace. Yet the grieving Henry, at Autun, had banished Wolfhere from court as punishment for his being the messenger who had brought him news of Sanglant¡¯s death at Gent.

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    Except Sanglant wasn¡¯t dead.


    ¡°If only I could have taken you with me to Darre instead of Hanna,¡± Wolfhere murmured. Then he grinned wryly. ¡°Not that I have any complaint of Hanna, mind you, but do not forget¡ªas I have once or twice to my regret¡ªthat we Eagles do not control our own movements. We must go as and where the king sends us.¡±


    ¡°If you dislike the king¡¯s command upon you, then why do you remain an Eagle?¡±


    ¡°Ah, well.¡± His smile gave little away. ¡°I have been an Eagle for many years.¡±


    They rode on for a time in silence as the afternoon sun drew shadows across the road. A red kite glided into view along the treetops and vanished as it swooped for prey. Vines trailed from overhanging branches to brush the track.


    ¡°Is she well?¡± Liath asked finally.


    ¡°She is as she ever was.¡±


    ¡°You might as well tell me nothing as tell me that. I hardly remember her. Ai, Lady! Can you imagine what this means to me?¡±


    ¡°It means,¡± said Wolfhere with a somber expression, ¡°that I will lose you as an Eagle.¡±


    It struck her suddenly and profoundly. ¡°I¡¯m no longer kinless. I have a home.¡± But she could make no picture in her mind of what that home might look like.


    ¡°You will become what your birthright grants you, Liath. Although how much Bernard taught you I don¡¯t know, since you will not tell me.¡± Though there was a hint of accusation in his voice, he did not let it show on his face.


    ¡°The art of the mathematici, which is forbidden by the church.¡±


    ¡°But which is studied in certain places nevertheless. Will you go with me, Liath, when I leave the king?¡±


    She could not answer. This, of all choices, was the one she had never expected to have.


    By late afternoon they heard a rhythmic chopping and soon came to half-cleared land, undergrowth burned out between the stumps of trees. A goshawk skimmed the clearing. Squirrels bounded along branches, chittering at these intruders. Just past a shallow stream they came to a natural clearing now inhabited by three cottages built of logs and several turf outbuildings. A garden fenced with stout sticks ran riot alongside the central lane, which was also the road. Several young men labored to build a palisade, but when they saw the Eagles, they set down their tools to stare. One whistled to alert the rest, and soon Liath and Wolfhere were surrounded by the entire community: some ten hardy adult souls and about a dozen children.


    ¡°Nay, you can¡¯t go this day,¡± said the eldest woman there, Old Uta, whom the others deferred to. ¡°You¡¯ll not come clear of the Bretwald before nightfall. Better you bide here with us than sleep where the beasts might make off with you. As it is, we¡¯ve a wedding to celebrate tonight. It would be our shame not to show hospitality to guests at such a time!¡±


    The young men put on deerskin tunics and then set up a long table and benches outdoors while the women and girls prepared a feast: baked eggs; rabbit; a haunch of venison roasted over the fire; a salad of greens; coarse brown bread baked into a pudding with milk and honey roasted mushrooms; and as many berries as Liath could eat without making herself sick, all washed down with fresh goat¡¯s milk and a pungent cider that went immediately to her head. She found it hard to concentrate as Wolfhere regaled the foresters with tales of the Alfar Mountains and a great avalanche and of the holy city of Darre and the palace of Her Holiness the skopos, our mother among the saints, Clementia, the second of that name.


    The bride was easy to recognize: the youngest daughter of Old Uta, she wore flowers in her braided hair and she sat on the bench of honor next to her husband. The bridegroom was scarcely more than a boy, and all through the meal he stared at Liath. There was something familiar about him, but she could not pin it down and no doubt it was only the strength of the cider acting on the astounding news Wolfhere had burdened her with that made her so dizzy.


    Her mother was alive.


    ¡°Eagle,¡± said the young man, speaking up suddenly. ¡°You were the one who led us out of Gent. Do you remember me? With no good humor, I¡¯d wager. I¡¯m the one as lost your horse, by the east gate.¡± Ruddy-cheeked from working in the sun, he looked little like the thin-faced lad who had wept outside Gent over losing her horse and losing his home that awful day; he had filled out through the chest and gotten rounder in the face. But his eyes had that same quick gleam.


    ¡°Ach, lad, lost a horse!¡± The men groaned and the women clucked in displeasure. ¡°A horse! If we only had a horse to haul those logs, or even a donkey¡ª¡±


    ¡°We could have traded a horse for another iron ax!¡±

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    ¡°Peace!¡± said Liath sharply. They quieted at once and turned to her respectfully. ¡°Did he not tell you what occurred at Gent?¡±


    ¡°Gent¡¯s a long way from here,¡± said Old Uta, ¡°and is nothing to do with us. Indeed, I¡¯d never heard tell of it before they came.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s Gent?¡± piped up one of the younger children.


    ¡°It¡¯s the place where Martin and Young Uta came from, child.¡± The old woman indicated the bridegroom and then a stout girl with scars on her face and hands. ¡°We took them in, for there were many young people left without family after the raiders came. We¡¯ve always use for more hands to work. It took us and the other foresters ten years to cut that road.¡± She nodded toward the track that led eastward out of the clearing into the dense forest. ¡°Now we¡¯re done, we can cut a home out of this clearing and be free of our service to Lady Helmingard.¡±


    ¡°Well, then,¡± said Liath, looking at each in turn, ¡°I¡¯ll thank you not to be thinking it¡¯s any fault of Martin¡¯s that he lost the horse. The king¡¯s own Dragons died saving what townsfolk they could from the Eika. There was nothing a boy could do against savages.¡±


    ¡°Did all the Dragons die in the end?¡± Martin asked. She recalled now that he had been the kind of boy who yearned after the Dragons and followed them everywhere he could.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Wolfhere.


    ¡°No,¡± said Liath, and she had the satisfaction of seeing Wolfhere astounded in his turn. ¡°The prince survived.¡±


    ¡°The prince survived,¡± echoed Wolfhere, on an exhaled breath. Liath could not tell if he were ecstatic or dismayed.


    ¡°The prince,¡± breathed the young man in tones more appropriate for a prayer to God. ¡°But of course the prince must have lived. Not even the Eika could kill him. Are they still there in Gent? The Eika, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Nay, for two great armies marched on Gent in order to avenge the attack last year.¡± Her audience raptly awaited the tale, and even Wolfhere regarded her with that cool gray gaze, patient enough for obviously wanting to hear the story of how Prince Sanglant had survived the death both she and Wolfhere had visioned through fire.


    So she told the tale of Count Lavastine¡¯s march and the terrible battle on the field before Gent, of Bloodheart¡¯s enchantments and the Eika horde. She told of how Lavastine himself had taken some few of his soldiers as a last gamble through the tunnel and how Bloodheart¡¯s death had shattered the Eika army, how King Henry¡¯s army arrived at the very end¡ªjust in time. She could not resist dwelling perhaps more than was seemly on Sanglant¡¯s great deeds that day, saving his sister¡¯s line from collapse, slaying more Eika than any other soldier on the field. To these isolated forest folk the tale no doubt could as well have been told about heroes who had lived a hundred years before; she might as well have sung the tale of Waltharia and Sigisfrid and the cursed gold of the Hevelli for all that her words truly meant no more to them than a good evening¡¯s tale.


    But they proclaimed themselves well satisfied when she had done.


    ¡°A fitting tale for a wedding feast,¡± said Old Uta. ¡°Now we¡¯ve somewhat for you to take to King Henry, as a token of our gratitude for his generosity in granting us freedom from Lady Helmingard¡¯s service, which she laid heavily on us.¡±


    Recalling the diploma she carried, Liath removed it from her saddlebags and read aloud to them King Henry¡¯s promise that the foresters would be free of service to any lady or lord as long as they kept the king¡¯s road passable for himself and his messengers and armies. The king had not yet put his seal on it, but the foresters nevertheless listened intently, touched the parchment with reverence, and examined the writing, which, of course, none of them could read.


    ¡°I¡¯ve a wish to go back to Gent,¡± said the scarred girl, Young Uta. ¡°I don¡¯t like the forest.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve a few years to work off first,¡± said Old Uta sternly, and the girl sighed.


    But Martin was satisfied with his new life. He had a bride, a place of honor, and security among his new kin. The foresters had meat in abundance and wild plants and skins to trade to the farming folk for grain to supplement what vegetables they could grow in their garden. Even in years made lean by a scant harvest there was game to be caught in the deep forest. They showed off their iron tools: two axes and a shovel. The rest of the tools were made of wood, stone, or copper. They had a storehouse filled with baskets of nuts and pips, shriveled crab apples, leather vessels brimming with barley and unhulled wheat, herbs dried and hung in bundles, and several covered pots of lard. From the rafters they brought down four fine wolfskins and a bearskin and these they rolled and tied and gave to Wolfhere to present to the king as a token of their loyalty and in honor of his recent visit to Weraushausen and the pledge made between foresters and king.

 Page 24

    When twilight came, they all escorted bride and bridegroom to the best bed in the hall and entertained them with songs and lengthy toasts. Oaths were sworn¡ªMartin would be given a place in the family in exchange for his labor¡ªand pledges of consent exchanged. In a month or a year, a frater would probably walk out along the road into the forest, and then he could sing a blessing over the couple. It was always good to get the blessing of the church in such matters, when one could.


    ¡°Come now!¡± said Old Uta finally, taking pity on the newlyweds, who sat bolt upright in the bed enduring the jests and singing. ¡°It¡¯s time to leave these young folk alone to get on with it!¡± With much laughter, the rest of them left the hall and went to sleep outdoors.


    But Liath was too restless to sleep. Wolfhere built a small fire, and by this they sat as stars bloomed in the darkening sky. Lying on her back, she pretended to sleep but instead studied the heavens. Summer was known as ¡°the Queen¡¯s sky.¡± The Queen, her Bow, her Staff, and her Sword all shone in splendor above. The Queen¡¯s Cup stood at the zenith, the bright star known as the Sapphire almost directly overhead. Her faithful Eagle rose from the east behind her, flying eternally toward the River of Heaven, which spanned the night sky much as the forest road cut a swath through the dense woodland. The zodiac was obscured by trees and by a misty haze that had spread along the southern horizon, but she caught a glimpse of the Dragon, sixth House, between gaps among the tops of trees. Stately Mok gleamed in the hindquarters of the Lion, a brilliant wink between leaves.


    ¡°I never thought to look for him,¡± said Wolfhere suddenly into the silence.


    ¡°For whom?¡± she asked, then knew the next instant whom he meant. ¡°Didn¡¯t you ever try looking for my mother through fire?¡±


    ¡°We can only see the living, and then only ones we know and have touched, have a link to.¡±


    ¡°But I saw the Aoi through fire, after Gent fell.¡± She rolled to one side. He sat on the other side of the fire, his face in shadow. ¡°I¡¯d never met any such creatures.¡± She hesitated, then said nothing more about her encounter with the Aoi sorcerer.


    ¡°That is indeed a mystery. I have but small skill in these matters, though I am adept at seeing. Had I ever suspected Prince Sanglant was alive, I would have looked for him, but I did not. We both saw him take a killing blow¡ª¡± Here he broke off.


    ¡°You are no more surprised than I was when I recognized him in the cathedral,¡± she admitted. But she could not make herself describe to Wolfhere how like a wild beast Sanglant had looked¡ªand acted. Instead she changed the subject. ¡°Da said¡ª¡±


    Da¡¯s words on the last night of his life remained caught forever in her city of memory. ¡°If you touch anything their hands have touched, they have a further link to you¡­. They have the power of seeking and finding, but I have sealed you away from them.¡± If Da had only known her mother wasn¡¯t dead, what then? Could she have saved him?


    ¡°How could Da have thought she was dead if she wasn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°How could we have thought Prince Sanglant dead, when he wasn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°But if she was alive, then why didn¡¯t she try to find us? She could see through fire. She knew we weren¡¯t dead!¡±


    ¡°She looked for you! But you are not alone in being hunted. Despite our small magics, distances are great and not easily traversed even for an Eagle who has a horse and the promise of lodging and food wherever she stops.¡±


    ¡°But if she had to go into hiding, why couldn¡¯t she take us? How could Da have thought she was dead? I remember¡ª¡± Like fire taking to pitch, the memory of that night ten years past flared into life.


    ¡°What do you remember?¡± he asked softly.


    She could barely find her voice. ¡°Everything burst into flame, the cottage, all the plants in the courtyard, the stables and the weaving house, all the other buildings ¡­¡± She shut her eyes, and there in the forest clearing with the whispering of the night woodland pressing in on her she dredged into the depths of that old painful memory. ¡°And the benches. The stone benches. Even the stone burned. That¡¯s when we ran. Da grabbed the book and we ran. And he said, ¡°¡®They¡¯ve killed Anne and taken her gift to use as their own.¡¯¡±


    She had to stop because her throat was thick with grief, and with more questions than she knew how to ask. Opening her eyes, she stared up at a sky now so brilliant with stars that it seemed a thousand burning jewels had been casually strewn across the heavens. A streak of light blazed and vanished: a falling star. Was it an angel cast to earth by God¡¯s hand, sent to aid the prayers of the faithful, as the church mothers wrote? Or was it the track of one of those aetherical creatures born out of pure fire who, diving like a falcon, plunged from the Sun¡¯s sphere to those nesting below?

 Page 25

    Wolfhere said nothing. The fire popped loudly and spit a red coal onto the end of her cloak. She shook it off and then sank forward to rest elbows on knees and stare into the fire. A long while passed in silence as the yellow flames flickered and died down into sullen coals. Wolfhere seemed to have fallen asleep.


    He had looked for her, but he had not been able to see her through fire. Was Da¡¯s spell still hiding her? She had felt the presence of others looking for her, had felt the wind of their stalking, the blind grasp of their seeking hands. She had seen the glass-winged daimone. She had seen the creatures that stalked with a voice of bells and left flesh stripped to bone in their wake. Were they still out there? Could she, like a mouse, scuttle into places forbidden to her and spy them out?


    She made of the coals a gateway and peered into its depths. If only she could recall her mother clearly enough in her mind¡¯s eye, then surely she could vision her through fire, actually see her again. But as the fire flared under the weight of her stare, she was suddenly seized by a foreboding of doom as real as a hand touching her shoulder¡ªas Hugh¡¯s hand had imprisoned her, binding her to his will.


    The fire leaped with sudden strength as if it were an unnatural being blooming into existence, wings unfurling into a sheet of fire, eyes like the strike of lightning, the breath of the fiery Sun coalesced into mind and will. Its voice rolled with the searing blaze of flame.


    ¡°Child.¡±


    She shrieked out loud and scrambled backward, so terrified that she couldn¡¯t gulp down the sobs that burst from her chest.


    Wolfhere started up. The fire winked out, that fast, to become ashes and one last spark of heat, a dying cinder, gone. ¡°Liath!¡±


    She jumped up and ran out to the half-built palisade, logs felled and sharpened and driven into a ditch to make a barrier against the beasts of the forest. She leaned against one of the stout posts. With the bark peeled off, oak lay smooth against her shoulder and cheek; the foresters had done their work well, for the post did not shift beneath her weight.


    She was still shaking.


    An owl hooted and its shadow fluttered past, then vanished into the night.


    ¡°Ai, Lady,¡± she whispered to the silent witness of stars and night breeze and the many busy animals about their nocturnal labors. ¡°Sanglant.¡±


    II


    A LILY AMONG THORNS


    1


    IVAR had never prayed so much in his life, not even in his first year as a novice at Quedlinhame. His knees ached constantly. But Baldwin had taken it into his head that if he prayed enough he could protect himself from his bride¡¯s attentions: He hoped that even a powerful margrave would be loath to disturb a young man at prayer, no matter how long she had been waiting to get her hands on him.


    So it proved for the first five days after they left Quedlinhame. But Ivar had ears, and he had grown up with sisters. Margrave Judith wasn¡¯t so old that her holy courses had ceased. He even caught a glimpse of a stained cloth laid reverently on a blazing hearth fire.


    Women were specially holy at their bleeding time, not to be corrupted by base desire. Even a noblewoman such as Judith followed the wisdom of the church mothers in such matters. Ivar suspected that all Baldwin¡¯s praying was a pretty show that counted for very little except to whet his bride¡¯s appetite; sometimes while praying, Ivar glanced sidelong at the margrave watching Baldwin, who did indeed pray beautifully.


    ¡°You oughtn¡¯t to pray unless you pray from your heart,¡± said Ivar. ¡°It¡¯s a sin.¡±


    It was late afternoon on yet another day of travel, west, toward the king. Ivar rode a donkey, as was fitting for a novice, but Baldwin had been given a proud black gelding to ride. No doubt Margrave Judith could not resist the chance to display two handsome creatures together.


    Right now, however, Baldwin came as close to scowling as he ever could. ¡°You scold like Master Pursed-Lips. I am praying from my heart! You don¡¯t imagine I want to marry her, do you?¡±


    ¡°As if you have a choice.¡±


    ¡°If the marriage is not consummated, then it is no marriage.¡±


    Ivar sighed. ¡°She¡¯s no worse than any other woman. You¡¯ll have fine clothes to wear, excellent armor, and a good iron sword. You¡¯ll have the Quman barbarians to fight in the march country. It won¡¯t be so bad.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t like her,¡± said Baldwin in the tone of a child who has never before had to accept anything he didn¡¯t like. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be married to her.¡± He cast a glance forward where Lady Tallia rode beside Margrave Judith. ¡°I¡¯d even rather marry¡ª¡±.


    ¡°She isn¡¯t to be married!¡± hissed Ivar in a low voice, suddenly angry. ¡°Not by anyone! God has chosen her to be Her handmaiden, to be the uncorrupted bride of Her Son, the blessed Daisan, as all nuns ought to pledge themselves to be.¡±

 Page 26

    ¡°Why can¡¯t I be chosen?¡± murmured Baldwin plaintively.


    ¡°Because you¡¯re a man. Women serve God by tending Her hearth, for they are made in God¡¯s image and it is their duty to administer to all that She creates.¡±


    ¡°If you preach a heresy,¡± whispered Baldwin, ¡°then the church will punish you.¡±


    ¡°Martyrdom isn¡¯t punishment! The heathen Dariyans rewarded the blessed Daisan by flaying him alive and cutting out his heart. But God gave him life again, just as martyrs live again in the Chamber of Light.¡±


    Baldwin flicked a fly away from his face as he considered the women riding at the front of the procession. ¡°Do you suppose Margrave Judith will be lifted up to the Chamber of Light when she dies, or will she be flung into the Abyss?¡±


    At the vanguard rode some twenty guardsmen, soldiers fitted out in tabards sewn with a leaping panther. After them came Margrave Judith herself. She had a proud carriage, silvering hair, and a handsome profile marked in particular by a strong nose; she wore a tunic of the richest purple, a hue Ivar had never seen before and marveled at now, embroidered so cunningly with falcons stooping upon fleeing hares and panthers springing upon unsuspecting deer that at odd moments he thought he had glimpsed a real scene, not one caught by silk thread on linen. Riding beside the margrave, Tallia looked frail with her head bowed humbly and her shoulders curved as though under a great weight; she still dressed as simply as a novice, in a coarse robe with a shawl draped modestly over her head. Other attendants surrounded them, laughing and joking. Judith preferred women as companions; of the nobles, clerics, stewards, servants, grooms, carters, and humble slaves who attended her, almost all were female, with the exception of most of her soldiers and two elderly fraters who had served her mother before her. She rode at the head of a magnificent procession. Of the entourages Ivar had seen, only the king¡¯s had been larger.


    ¡°Why would such a powerful noble be flung into the pit?¡± Ivar replied finally. ¡°Except that she is in error about the Holy Word and the truth of the blessed Daisan¡¯s death and life. But that is the fault of the church, which denies the truth to those eager to hear the Holy Word. I suppose Margrave Judith will endow a convent at her death and the nuns there will pray for her soul every day. So why shouldn¡¯t she ascend to the Chamber of Light, with so many nuns praying so devoutly for the care of her soul once she is dead?¡±


    Baldwin sighed expansively. ¡°Then why should I bother to be good, if it only means that I¡¯ll endure for eternity next to her in the Chamber of Light after I¡¯m dead?¡±


    ¡°Baldwin! Didn¡¯t you listen at all to the lessons?¡± Ivar realized at that moment that Baldwin¡¯s rapt attentive gaze, so often turned on Master Pursed-Lips, Brother Methodius, and their other teachers, might have all this time concealed his complete mental absence from their lessons. ¡°In the Chamber of Light all of our earthly desires will be washed away in the glory of God¡¯s gaze.¡±


    At that instant the margrave chanced to look back toward them. The gleam in her eyes caused poor Baldwin to look startled and abruptly shy, but unfortunately Baldwin¡¯s modesty only highlighted the length of his eyelashes, the curve of his rosy cheeks, and the blush of his lips. The margrave smiled and returned her attention to her companions, who laughed uproariously at some comment she now made. Like a cat, she gained great pleasure in toying with the plump mouse she had snared.


    Ivar shuddered. ¡°But there¡¯s nothing you can do anyway,¡± he said to Baldwin.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean I have to like it.¡± A half-gulped-down sob choked out of Baldwin¡¯s throat and was stifled. ¡°At least you¡¯re with me, Ivar.¡± He reached out and clasped Ivar¡¯s hand tightly, almost crushing Ivar¡¯s knuckles with the desperate strength of his grip.


    ¡°For now.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll beg her to keep you by me,¡± said Baldwin fiercely, releasing Ivar¡¯s hand. ¡°You can be my attendant. Promise me you¡¯ll stay with me, Ivar.¡± He turned the full force of those beautiful eyes on Ivar. Ivar flushed, felt the heat of it suffuse his face; that blush satisfied Baldwin, who first smiled softly at him and then glanced nervously toward the woman who now controlled his fate.


    That evening Ivar was allowed to pour wine at the margrave¡¯s table. They had stopped for the night at a monastic estate, and Judith had commanded a fine feast. The margrave was in high spirits; the food was plentiful, the jesting so pointed that Baldwin could not take his gaze off the wooden trencher he shared with his bride. A poet who traveled with them performed ¡°The Best of Songs,¡± appropriate for a wedding night.

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    ¡°Bring me into your chamber, O queen.


    I have eaten my bread and honey.


    I have drunk my wine.


    Eat, friends, and drink, until you are drunk with love.¡±


    One of Judith¡¯s noble companions was questioning the elderly uncle, brother to Baldwin¡¯s mother, whose presence had been necessary to pry Baldwin loose from the monastery: The old man had explained to Mother Scholastica in a quavering voice that the betrothal between Judith and Baldwin had been formally confirmed by oaths when Baldwin was thirteen; thus the covenant superseded Baldwin¡¯s personal oath to the monastery.


    Now drunk, the uncle confided in Lady Adelinde. ¡°But the margrave was still married then, when she saw the lad. Ai, well, if her husband hadn¡¯t died fighting the Quman, no doubt she would have set him aside in Baldwin¡¯s favor. He was of a good family but nothing as well-favored as the boy.¡±


    Adelinde only smiled. ¡°And when Judith sees a man she wants, she will have him despite what the church says about cleaving only to one spouse. No doubt it was a good match for the family.¡±


    ¡°Yes, indeed,¡± he agreed enthusiastically. ¡°My sister saw how much she wanted the boy, so she drove a hard bargain and was able to expand her own holdings with several good estates.¡±


    Ai, God! Sold like a young bull at market. Ivar gulped the dregs of wine from the cup he was taking to refill. The wine burned his throat; his head was already swimming.


    ¡°She¡¯ll marry him tonight,¡± said the old uncle, nodding toward the bridal pair. Judith kept a firm hand on the wine cup she and Baldwin shared, making sure he did not drink too much, but she did not fawn over him or pay him an unseemly amount of attention. ¡°And a biscop will sing a blessing over the marriage when we reach the king.¡±


    ¡°Come, my beloved, let us go early to the vineyards.


    Let us see if the vine has budded or its blossom opened.¡±


    ¡°You see, Adelinde,¡± said the margrave, calling Lady Adelinde¡¯s attention away from Baldwin¡¯s aged relative. ¡°No flower should be plucked before it blooms, or we will never see it in its full flowering.¡± She indicated Baldwin who by this time was pink with embarrassment; yet like a flower under the hot gaze of the sun¡ªand the abrupt attention of all the folk privileged to sit at the table with Margrave Judith¡ªhe did not wilt but rather flourished. But she had already turned her gaze elsewhere; she had a sudden and uncomfortable glint in her eyes. ¡°Is that not so, Lady Tallia?¡±


    The young woman did not look up. She had not even eaten the bread off her plate, and at once Ivar felt guilty for having eaten and drunk so lustily. Her face was as pale as a dusting of snow on spring fields, her voice so soft that he could scarcely hear her reply. ¡°¡®If a woman were to offer for love the whole wealth of her house, it would be utterly scorned.¡¯¡±


    This rebuke had no effect on Margrave Judith¡¯s good cheer. ¡°¡®But my vineyard is mine to give,¡¯¡± she retorted to hearty laughter, and then signaled to her waiting attendants. ¡°Come. Now we shall retire.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± exclaimed her companion with drunken joviality. ¡°So soon after fetching him from the monastery? You raise horses aplenty in the east. Surely you know you break them in a bit at a time. You don¡¯t just throw a saddle on them and ride them the first time you put a harness on them.¡±


    ¡°I have been patient,¡± said Judith with a pleasant smile, but there was iron in her tone. She gestured to Baldwin to rise, and Ivar hastily followed him, since poor Baldwin had now gone as white as a burial shroud.


    In the bustle as they retreated from the hall Ivar found himself cornered by Judith¡¯s noble companion, who was so flushed with drink that her hands had no more discretion than her wine-loosened tongue. ¡°Do you have those freckles everywhere?¡± she demanded, and with a hand on his thigh seemed likely to pull up his robe to find out.


    ¡°Nay, Adelinde.¡± Judith put herself between the woman and Ivar. ¡°This boy is sworn to the church. He¡¯s not even allowed to speak to women. I have pledged to see him safely to the monastery of St. Walaricus the Martyr. And that means safe in all parts.¡± Her glance touched Ivar, but in her case it was her disinterest in him that was tangible. He could have been a chair she moved aside. ¡°Go on, boy. Attend my bridegroom to his night¡¯s rest.¡±


    A chamber had been set aside for the margrave and her attendants. Several pallets had been set to one side on the floor; the bed, wide and soft, had a curtain hung about it like a shield. A breath of wind through open shutters stirred the curtain. Outside, twilight bled a buttery light into the room.

 Page 28

    Baldwin was shaking as Ivar helped him out of his sandals and leggings and fine tunic, leaving him in his undertunic. He washed his face and hands and then went to kneel beside the bed in an attitude of devout prayer, as blank of expression as a handsome marble statue.


    Judith arrived, flushed and full of energy. She was a good-sized woman, tall, stout, and strong. Baldwin was scarcely taller and, having all the slenderness of youth, seemed swallowed by her robust presence.


    At a signal from one of the servants, Ivar left Baldwin and retreated to a corner. At the table, one of Judith¡¯s clerics chanted words over a strip of linen marked with letters¡ªsomething in Dariyan that Ivar couldn¡¯t make out, although it had the cadence of one of those homely spells used by parish deacons to drive out pests or heal the sick. The cleric soaked the linen in vinegar and then wrapped it up around a pebble. Now Ivar turned away modestly while Judith¡¯s attendants flocked around her, undressing her. There was much giggling and whispering. A servingwoman drew the curtains shut. The other servants settled down on pallets or on the floor, but Ivar couldn¡¯t sleep. Facing the corner, he sank down to bruised knees, clenched his eyes shut, and clasped his hands tightly in prayer.


    Even with his eyes squeezed shut, he couldn¡¯t help but hear. The good margrave seemed to take an unconscionably long time about her task.


    His own body stirred in response to what he heard: a slip of cloth as bodies rolled, a grunt, a stifled chuckle, a sudden surprised gasp; a sigh. Ai, Lady protect him. He could imagine the man rousing, the woman opening, and whether his thoughts dwelt longest with bridegroom or bride he could not¡ªmust not¡ªthink on. His prayers fled from him like startled hares. He was sweating although it was not a particularly hot night.


    A few short gasps which he recognized as Baldwin¡ªand it was finally over.


    He had held himself so tensely that to move made his muscles groan. Grimacing, he eased down onto the carpet that covered the wood floor, the only pallet granted him, and at last, wrung out by the ordeal, dozed off ¡­ only to be awakened much later in the night by the same thing.


    When they had finished once again, he could finally sleep, but he was haunted by terrible dreams. Surely the Enemy had sent a hundred grasping, pinching, teasing minions to taunt him with visions of Liath warm, willing, and close against him.


    In the morning only formalities remained. Judith presented her new husband with a traditional morning gift to celebrate the consummation of the marriage: a fine sword set in a jeweled scabbard; a silk tunic from Arethousa; a small ivory chest containing jeweled brooches and rings; and twelve nomias, gold coins minted in the Arethousan Empire. It was a handsome and impressive gift.


    Baldwin¡¯s old uncle had brought a trifle for Baldwin to present to her in his turn, a gold bauble with bells hidden inside that tinkled when it was rolled along the floor.


    The marriage-price paid by Judith to his parents was more substantial but none of it movable wealth: He now could lay claim to several rich estates in Austra and Olsatia. That had all been agreed upon five years before, and it was only a formality to read the charters now.


    They left the estate late in the morning. Judith rode ahead with her attendants, leaving Ivar to keep pace beside Baldwin. The new bridegroom had a flush in his cheeks and a bit of pale fuzz along his jaw; he was a man now and was expected to grow a beard.


    Ivar reached over to tap his leg, and Baldwin flinched as if any least touch startled him. ¡°Are you well?¡± whispered Ivar. ¡°You look as if you¡¯ve taken a fever.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know.¡± His eyes had a feverish gleam and his gaze on Ivar had such intensity that all at once those thoughts which had tormented Ivar¡¯s waking prayers and restless sleep last night shuddered back into life and danced through his body. Both young men looked away, at once, and when Ivar looked up again it was to see Baldwin staring now at Lady Tallia with her pale face and frail profile. His lips were slightly swollen, and his eyes were wide.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know,¡± he repeated, as at a revelation, but of what he hadn¡¯t known then and did know now he spoke no further word. Ivar was left to ride in discomforting silence beside him.


    2


    WHEN Rosvita slept with the Vita of St. Radegundis tucked against her, the bequest given to her by the dying Brother Fidelis, she always had strange dreams. Voices whispered in her dreams in a language she could not quite understand. Creatures fluttered at the edge of her mind¡¯s vision as at the forest¡¯s verge, trying to catch her attention, then bolting as woodland animals did when they caught the scent of a predator.


    A golden wheel flashed in harsh sunlight, turning. Young Berthold slept peacefully in a stone cavern, surrounded by six attendants. A blizzard tore at mountain peaks, and in the wings of a storm danced moon-pale daimones, formed out of the substance of the aetherical winds. A lion stalked a cold hillside of rock, and on the plain of dying grass below this escarpment black hounds coursed after their prey, an eight-pointed stag, while a great party of riders clothed in garments as brilliant as gems followed on their trail.

 Page 29

    ¡°Sister Rosvita!¡±


    A hand descended on her shoulder and she woke, dragged out of the dream by the urgent summons of the waking world. She grunted and sat up, blinking.


    ¡°I beg you, Sister Rosvita.¡± Nerves made young Constantine¡¯s voice squeak like a boy¡¯s. ¡°The king wishes you to attend him. A steward is here to escort you.¡±


    ¡°I beg you, Brother, recall your modesty.¡±


    He murmured apologies and turned his back as she slipped out from under the blanket and pulled on cleric¡¯s robes over her undertunic. Sister Amabilia snored pleasingly in the bed; Rosvita envied the young woman her ability to sleep through anything. She considered the Vita and on impulse picked it up.


    The king was out behind the stables, fully dressed as if he had never lain down to sleep the night before. He stood with one foot braced on a stump and a hand braced on that leg as if to give him a place to grip patience as he watched his son pace back and forth, back and forth, along the ground in a curving line that would soon wear itself visibly into the grass. For an instant Rosvita thought the prince was on a leash, but it was only that the pattern of his restless pacing marked the same ground over and over: as if he still paced in a semicircle at the limit of chains. Yet he had been freed from the chains of his captivity to Bloodheart over twenty days ago.


    Dogs growled as Rosvita approached, making her neck prickle. Horrible beasts, they had huge fangs coated with saliva, and eyes that sparked fire. Their iron-gray coats lay like a sheen of metal over thin flanks. They lunged, were brought up short by chains, and contented themselves with barking and slobbering.


    Seeing Rosvita, Henry gestured toward his son. ¡°He has taken a mad plan into his head to ride out after one of my Eagles, without even an escort. Your advice, good Sister, will surely make him see reason where Villam and I cannot.¡±


    Sanglant stopped pacing and stood alertly as if listening¡ªto her, or to the birds singing their morning lauds. Was it true, as Brother Fidelis had said over a year ago, that the birds sang of this child born of the mingling of human and Aoi blood? Could the prince actually understand the language of the birds? Or was he listening for something else?


    ¡°Let me go, Your Majesty,¡± said Sanglant harshly. ¡°Call off your dogs.¡±


    The soldiers glanced toward the staked-down Eika dogs, who growled and yipped, sensing their disquiet. Henry looked toward Rosvita, expecting her to speak.


    Quickly she collected her thoughts. ¡°What troubles you, Your Highness? Where is it you wish to go?¡±


    ¡°She should have been back by now. I have been patient. But there are things stalking her.¡± He cast his head back to scent. ¡°I can smell them. There is something else, something I don¡¯t understand¡ª What if she¡¯s met with disaster on the road? I must find her!¡±


    That he did not bolt for freedom was due only to the presence of his father. Henry would not have been king had he not had a gaze as sharp as lightning and a force of will as strong as any ten men. That will set to bear on the prince was all that kept Sanglant from bolting.


    ¡°How will you find this Eagle you seek?¡± Rosvita continued. ¡°There are many roads.¡±


    ¡°But I smell death¡ª! And the taint of the Enemy.¡± He shook himself all over, barked out something more like a howl of frustration than a curse, and suddenly collapsed to his knees. ¡°Ai, Lady, I feel a dead hand reaching out to poison her.¡±


    ¡°As well chain him up like the dogs,¡± muttered the king, ¡°as get sense out of him. No one must see him like this.¡±


    ¡°Your Highness.¡± Rosvita knew how to soothe distraught men. As eldest daughter in her father¡¯s hall, that duty had fallen to her more than once as a child when rage overtook Count Harl. She had soothed Henry many times. She went forward now and cautiously but firmly laid a hand on the prince¡¯s shoulder. His whole body shook under her touch. ¡°Would it not be better to remain with the king¡¯s progress than to risk missing her on the road? The Eagle you seek will return to the king. If you go hunting for her, how can you hope to find her when so much land lies between?¡±


    He had a hand over his eyes and was, she now realized, weeping silently. But tears, at least, were a man¡¯s reaction, not a dog¡¯s. Emboldened by this small success, she went on. ¡°We move again today, Your Highness. At Werlida they have stores enough to feed us all for a week or more. How many roads lead to Werlida? You could ride for months and miss her on the road. Only be patient.¡±


    ¡°Child,¡± said Villam gently, ¡°all Eagles return to the king in time. If you wait with the king, then she will come to us eventually.¡±

 Page 30

    ¡°She will come to me eventually,¡± he whispered hoarsely.


    Villam smiled. ¡°There speaks a young man touched by the barb young men feel most keenly. You must be patient in your turn, Your Majesty. He has endured much.¡±


    The king frowned at his son but, as the clerics gathered in the manor hall behind them raised their voices in the opening verses of Prime, his expression lost some of its utter gloom.


    ¡°She¡¯s a handsome enough young woman,¡± continued Villam, almost coaxingly. ¡°It would do him good to recover his interest in women.¡±


    ¡°What is it you mean, son,¡± asked the king, ¡°by the taint of the Enemy? By a ¡®dead hand¡¯?¡±


    Suddenly, as if alerted by a noise only he could hear, Sanglant bolted to his feet and yanked up the stake that held the dogs. With them yammering and dragging at the chains, he made for the horses watched over by a nervous groom. The horses shied away from the frenzied approach of the pack, and the prince had to beat the dogs back with his fists to make them stop lunging for the underbellies of the horses. With growls and whines they obeyed him, and he swung onto a horse and with the dogs¡¯ leashes still in his grip and a square pouch slung over his shoulder, he rode away toward the river.


    The king looked toward Hathui. She nodded, as at a spoken command, and commandeered a horse to make haste after Sanglant. With barely audible groans, the four soldiers followed her.


    ¡°I despair of him,¡± muttered Henry.


    ¡°Let him recover,¡± advised Villam. ¡°Then give him the Dragons again. Battle will restore his wits.¡±


    But Henry only frowned. ¡°Ungria¡¯s king has sent an envoy. He offers his younger brother as a bridegroom for Sapientia.¡±


    Rosvita regarded him with surprise. ¡°I thought you favored the suit of the Salian, Prince Guillaime. Or the son of the Polenie king.¡±


    ¡°Savages!¡± murmured Villam, who had fought against the Polenie before their conversation to the faith of the Unities. ¡°You¡¯d do better to marry her to young Rodulf of Varingia, and seal his sister the duke¡¯s loyalty in that way. Sapientia will need the loyalty of Duchess Yolande of Varingia when she comes to the throne.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s always been an obedient son,¡± said Henry, still staring in the direction his son had ridden. ¡°But I must set the foundation on stone, not sand.¡±


    Villam glanced at Rosvita and raised his eyebrows as if to question her. What on earth was the king speaking about? She could only shrug.


    In the forecourt in front of the manor house where they had stayed the night, the servants were already loading wagons, beating feather beds, hauling the king¡¯s treasure chests out under guard. Rosvita watched as young Brother Constantine hurried out, bent over a loose bundle of pens and ink bottles; because he wasn¡¯t looking where he was going, he slammed into a servant, dropped a stoppered bottle and then, bending to retrieve it, several quills as well.


    Rosvita smiled. ¡°Your Majesty. If I may go to my clerics and make ready?¡±


    Henry nodded absently. As she moved off, he called her name. ¡°I thank you, good friend,¡± he said with a sudden, brilliant smile, and she could only incline her head, staggered as always by the force of his approval.


    Rosvita reached young Constantine in time to help him pick up the last goose quill. A moment later she heard a hail. Brother Fortunatus and Sister Amabilia had appeared on the steps, blinking sleepily, and now they swung around to look as a rider came into view.


    ¡°Where is the king?¡± the man called. Rosvita stepped forward to take his message. ¡°Nay, I bring no message,¡± the rider continued politely. ¡°I ride as herald for Margrave Judith. She has returned to the king¡¯s progress with her bridegroom. She escorts Lady Tallia to the king.¡±


    ¡°Her bridegroom!¡± said Fortunatus just as Amabilia exclaimed: ¡°God Above! What has the girl done to get herself thrown out of Quedlinhame so quickly?¡±


    A new set of riders clattered into view, and the clerics stared expectantly, but it was only an annoyed Prince Sanglant with his escort of Hathui and the four guardsmen made anxious by the Eika dogs. Servants scattered, running for safety. The dogs erupted into a frenzy of barking, and a moment later Count Lavastine and his hounds spilled into the courtyard. The noise became so deafening that Rosvita covered her ears.


    Sanglant leaped down off his horse and yanked his dogs down, but they kept struggling up to bolt for the black hounds, who wisely kept their distance without stinting in threatening growls and ear-splitting barks even as the count called them to heel.


    Then Lavastine¡¯s heir came out of the hall. Lord Alain knelt beside the hounds and spoke a few words to them, and at once they ceased barking and sat, tongues lolling, with patient vigilance.

 Page 31

    Sanglant was still cursing his dogs, who barked and lunged and snapped at their rivals. His right hand dripped blood where the chain, dragged through his grip, had scraped the skin raw. Alain approached him cautiously, knelt with extended hand, and reached out to touch the nearest Eika dog.


    Rosvita shut her eyes as Amabilia gasped and Fortunatus swore under his breath. Constantine whimpered in fright. Then Rosvita cursed herself for cowardice and opened her eyes just as an uncanny silence fell upon the scene.


    Alain had laid a hand gently on the head of the biggest and ugliest of the Eika dogs. It sat meekly, trembling beneath his touch. The other two hunkered down. Gobs of saliva dribbled down their muzzles to stain the dirt at his feet.


    ¡°Peace,¡± he said to them. ¡°Poor troubled souls.¡±


    He stood up. Sanglant regarded the young man with astonishment. Count Lavastine¡¯s expression was so blank Rosvita could not read it.


    A moment more they all stood so. Then raised voices drifted out to them from the hall behind. Sanglant grimaced and hastily dragged his dogs away just as Sapientia and Father Hugh emerged from the hall. An attendant carried infant Hippolyte, and the baby crowed and burbled as Hugh smiled at her and tickled her under her fat chin.


    But Sapientia was staring around the courtyard, mouth pinched down. ¡°Did we miss something?¡± she demanded as Sanglant vanished behind the stable. Hathui nodded curtly at Rosvita and left to find the king. Servants emerged cautiously from their bolt-holes and resumed their labors, and the messenger crept out from the safety of the stables and knelt before Father Hugh.


    ¡°My lord. Your mother rides not an hour behind me on the road.¡±


    Father Hugh turned his smile from baby to messenger. ¡°Ah, you are the younger son of old Tortua, the crofter over by Lerchewald. You¡¯re much grown since I left Austra. You are wed now?¡±


    ¡°Nay, my lord. The farm has gone to my elder sisters and there was nothing left for me, so I came into your good mother¡¯s service.¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± said Hugh with a gentle smile but a glint like the spark of fire in his eye, ¡°that is often the fate of sons. Here.¡± He took a pouch from one of his attendants and gave a handful of silver coins to the young man. ¡°For your dowry.¡±


    The messenger flushed scarlet. ¡°My lord Hugh!¡± He kissed Hugh¡¯s hand. Hugh said a blessing over him and sent him off to find something to eat. As Count Lavastine came forward to pay his respects to Princess Sapientia, Hugh¡¯s gaze roved the courtyard and came to rest, briefly, on Rosvita.


    She nodded at him, to acknowledge him, although they did not stand close enough to speak. His eyes had a fever in them, as of a man caught at the beginning of the onslaught of an all-encompassing illness. He frowned at her, recalled himself, and offered a pleasant smile instead, then turned away.


    Did he suspect that she was the one who had stolen The Book of Secrets from him? And if he did, what action would he take against her?


    3


    IT was well past dawn, but the procession was not yet ready to leave. Loaded wagons jostled past crates of chickens; a file of soldiers stood at their ease beside the wagons which carried the king¡¯s treasure. As a mark of favor, the king had chosen to wait for Margrave Judith¡¯s party to arrive so that they could travel together to Werlida. Alain stood restlessly beside Lavastine, who himself waited on the king. The sun¡¯s glare made him wince as he squinted northeast, trying to make out the approaching party. It was so hard to wait.


    Lord Geoffrey had caroused late the night before, and he finally emerged from the house rubbing his eyes, looking rather the worse for wear. ¡°Cousin!¡± he said to Lavastine by way of greeting. He nodded at Alain, nothing more. ¡°Is it true that Margrave Judith will arrive today?¡±


    Lavastine¡¯s frown was comprehensive as he studied Geoffrey. ¡°Had you risen earlier, you would know the whole.¡±


    ¡°And missed the wrestling?¡± Geoffrey laughed heartily, and Alain flushed. A group of women who were no better than whores had come from the nearby town of Fuldas yesterday to entertain the king¡¯s court.


    ¡°I would not have called it wrestling,¡± replied Lavastine. ¡°Indeed, if you recall, their antics were so outrageous that in the end the king asked them to leave the hall.¡±


    ¡°Yet he did not forbid any of us to follow after them. The king does not begrudge the young their diversions.¡±


    ¡°The young will behave foolishly, as is their wont. But you are married, cousin.¡±


    ¡°And glad of it! So could you be married again, cousin, if you took a wife.¡±


    Lavastine pressed his lips together so tightly that his skin went white at the corners of his mouth. He called Terror over to him, and Geoffrey fidgeted nervously, but the old hound merely snarled at him and then sat down to get his ears stroked. ¡°I will not marry again. Alain will sire the next heir to Lavas county.¡±

 Page 32

    Geoffrey¡¯s smile in reply was as tight, and he did not look at Alain at all. But Alain knew he was thinking of his eldest and so far only child, Lavrentia, whom he had once believed would inherit the county of Lavas.


    ¡°Geoffrey!¡± cried one of the young lords from among a pack of them gathered by the stables. ¡°You missed the best of it last night! Come, we¡¯ll tell you!¡±


    Geoffrey excused himself and hurried over to them, stopping only to pay his respects to King Henry, who greeted him cheerfully enough.


    Alain stared and stared ¡°Look!¡± he cried, pointing to a haze of dust along the river.


    ¡°It was a terrible risk, Alain,¡± said Lavastine suddenly. ¡°What were you thinking to approach Prince Sanglant¡¯s dogs in that way?¡±


    ¡°Poor creatures. But I wasn¡¯t scared of them. That¡¯s why they didn¡¯t hurt me. If the prince would not treat them so brutally, they might have better natures.¡± Then he flushed, aghast at his own harsh words.


    ¡°Eika dogs do not have ¡®better natures.¡¯ Prince Sanglant has shown great mercy toward them. I would have had them killed outright. That they didn¡¯t injure you is beyond my understanding, Son. You will not go near them again.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Father,¡± he said obediently. Then: ¡°I see them!¡±


    Margrave Judith¡¯s procession came into view on the road. Her banner, a panther leaping upon an antelope, flew beside a banner marked with the Arconian guivre set between three springing roes, two above and one below, the sigil of the old royal house of Varre. Lavastine hissed in breath between his teeth and with a smile of triumph turned to Alain.


    ¡°Make ready, my child. What we have worked for will come to pass at Werlida.¡±


    Suddenly, senses made sharp by anticipation, Alan could smell the harvest of summer¡¯s growth, hear chickens scratching on wood, the piping call of a bullfinch, and the purl of the distant river. Far away, clouds gathered on the horizon, a dull gray that promised rain. Ardent yawned, a gape-toothed swallowing of air, and flopped down beside Bliss. Alain smelled ripe cheese and the last faint perfume of frankincense used in the morning service.


    ¡°Tallia,¡± he said softly, trying her name on his lips, but his throat clotted with emotion, and he could only stare as Margrave Judith¡¯s party approached in all their glory¡ªa sight that two years ago would have left him speechless at the splendor of their passing but which now had become commonplace. Father Hugh walked forward to kiss his mother¡¯s hand; then Judith dismounted in her turn to greet King Henry.


    Alain searched, but he could not see Tallia although he knew she must be among the group of women concealed by hoods and shawls.


    Sister Rosvita and her clerics stood a few paces from him, and Alain heard their whispered comments.


    ¡°God Above! He has the face of an angel!¡±


    ¡°Sister Amabilia,¡± replied Rosvita sternly. ¡°Do not stare so. It is unseemly.¡±


    ¡°¡®A lily among thorns is my sweet flower among men,¡¯¡± quoted the youngest of them, not without a quaver of awe in his voice.


    ¡°Brother Constantine and I are for once in agreement,¡± muttered Amabilia.


    ¡°Where does she find these succulent young morsels?¡± asked the fourth.


    ¡°Brother Fortunatus!¡± Rosvita scolded. Then, on a gasp, she spoke again. ¡°Ivar! What means this?¡±


    ¡°God help us,¡± murmured Lavastine in a tone of astonishment. Alain tore his gaze away from his search for Tallia to see a blindingly handsome young man brought forward to be presented to the king. With him, like an attendant, walked another young man whose curling red-gold hair strayed out from the otherwise modest cowl of his novice¡¯s hood. Rosvita moved forward to intercept the young men, but before she could reach them through the crowd, King Henry signaled for the march to begin. At once the courtyard fell into such a clamor and with so much dust hazing the scene that Alain had everything he could do to keep the hounds and himself next to his father.


    With Margrave Judith now in the procession, Count Lavastine and Alain were relegated to the second rank behind Henry, Helmut Villam, Judith, Hugh, and Princess Sapientia. But Alain did not mind; he kept craning his neck around to try to get a glimpse of Tallia, but her group was lost to his gaze in the crowd behind.


    It took until the afternoon to reach Werlida, a magnificent palace set on a bluff overlooking a broad bend in the river. They wound up a road from the river bottom and past a berm and a palisade wall into the lower enclosure. Here most of the wagons rumbled to a halt, scattering out among a village made up of sunken pit-houses for quartering servants and craftsmen, four large weaving halls, and a half dozen timber-post granaries. Alain caught the dusty scent of old grain stored in sacks and pots, then they moved out of range, upward through gateways with no less than three ramparts with ditches cut away on their outer slopes. From the height of the upper enclosure, he saw the river at the steep base of the bluff below. It curved around on three sides. Fields lay scattered among copses of woodland, and beyond them spread forest.

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    Here, on the grounds of the palace, they waited in the large, open interior field¡ªnot quite a courtyard¡ªfor the king to make his way to his quarters, which lay on the other side of a stone chapel. A stately timber hall with its foundations set in stone graced the southern side of this complex of buildings. The king¡¯s stewards parceled out quarters according to rank and favor, but no sooner had Alain gotten the hounds settled in a makeshift kennel outside their assigned guesthouse than the count came looking for him.


    ¡°King Henry has asked that we attend him in a private council. Come, Son. Make yourself presentable.¡± He glanced toward the kenneled hounds who, hoping for a caress, wagged their tails and whined. ¡°Bring two of the hounds as well.¡±


    The king received them in a spacious room with all the shutters taken down to admit light and air. Only Helmut Villam, a half-dozen servingmen, and Sister Rosvita attended him. Henry sat on his traveling chair, carved cunningly with lions as the four legs, the back as the wings of an eagle, and the arms as the sinuous necks and heads of dragons. The king leaned forward as his favored Eagle spoke softly into his ear. Seeing Lavastine and Alain, he straightened.


    ¡°Let him come to me at once if you can coax him within the ramparts. Otherwise¡ª¡± He glanced toward Villam, who gave a barely perceptible nod. ¡°¡ªlet him range as widely as he wishes at this time. Better that the court not see him when he is in such a restless and wild humor.¡±


    She bowed and strode briskly out of the chamber. Henry gestured to a servingman, who left the chamber in the Eagle¡¯s wake. Then he nodded to Sister Rosvita and, with a troubled expression, she read aloud from a letter.


    ¡°¡®To my brother, His Illustrious Majesty, Henry, regnant over Wendar and Varre. With a heavy heart and a disquieted mind I must relate to you these tidings, that our niece Tallia cannot remain at Quedlinhame. She has been spreading the taint of heresy among my novices and has polluted over twenty young innocents with her preaching. I advise caution even as I commend her into your hands. It seems to me that marriage would best distract her from these falsehoods.¡¯¡±


    Henry signed, and Rosvita stopped reading. ¡°Do you still want the marriage to go forward?¡± he asked Lavastine bluntly. ¡°The charge of heresy is a serious one. Mother Scholastica has taken Tallia¡¯s youth into account in judging her fit, at this time, for mercy. The girl claims to have had visions, but whether they have come to her through the agency of the Enemy or merely through her innocent trust in bad counselors we cannot say. If she does not repent of these views, the church may be forced to take more drastic action.¡±


    Lavastine raised an eyebrow, considering.


    Heresy. Alain knew in his gut to whom Tallia had listened: Frater Agius. It was as if the heresy of the flaying knife and the sacrifice and redemption of the blessed Daisan was a plague, passing from one vulnerable soul on to the next. Agius had been granted the martyr¡¯s death he so desired. Wasn¡¯t that a mark of God¡¯s favor? But why should God favor a man who preached a heresy against God¡¯s own truth?


    Yet the thought of losing Tallia because of Agius¡¯ preaching infuriated him. Anger welled up in his heart, and Rage growled beside him.


    ¡°Peace,¡± murmured Lavastine, and the hound settled down to rest its head on its great paws. He turned to the king. ¡°Lady Tallia is young yet, Your Majesty. And she has not, alas, been exposed to the wisest of counselors. A steadying influence¡ª¡± He nodded toward Alain. ¡°¡ªwill calm her young mind.¡±


    ¡°So be it,¡± said Henry, not without relief.


    ¡°The sooner this transaction takes place, the better,¡± added Lavastine. ¡°I must return to my lands before autumn so that I and my son can oversee the autumn sowing. A hard winter awaits us because of the men who died at Gent ¡­ those same men who gave up their lives to return Gent¡ªand your son Sanglant¡ªinto your hands.¡±


    The door opened and the servingman returned with two young women in tow. One, with a plump and eager face, stared at the king with mouth agape and then recalled herself and knelt obediently. The other, shawl askew to reveal wheat-pale hair, was Tallia.


    Alain had to shut his eyes. He was overtaken by such a surge of anticipation and relief and simple, terrible desire that he swayed, trembling all over, until Sorrow nudged up under a hand to give him a foundation to steady himself on.


    ¡°Uncle,¡± said Tallia so softly that the commonplace noises from outside almost drowned out her words ¡°I beg you, Uncle, let me retire in peace to a nun¡¯s cell. I will take vows of silence, if that must be, but do not¡ª¡±

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    ¡°Silence! You are not meant for the church, Tallia. In two days¡¯ time you will be wed to Lord Alain. Do not seek to argue with me. My mind is made up.¡±


    Alain looked up to see Tallia kneeling before the king. Her cheeks were scoured to a dreadful pallor, and she was as thin as a beggar in a year of bad harvests, but she was still beautiful to his eyes. It was more than her beauty that affected him; another inexplicable, unnamable force had taken hold of him and he could only stare, stricken dumb with shame for the desire he felt even as she turned a pleading gaze on him and with tears rolling down her cheeks bent her head as in submission to the terrible fate that had overtaken her.


    4


    FATHER Hugh never argued. He merely smiled when another disagreed with him, then spoke with such gentle persuasion that his disputants rarely recognized that he almost always got his way. But Hanna had learned to read signs of his agitation. Right now he was wringing the finger of one of his gloves, held lightly in his left hand, twisting it round and round as he listened to his mother¡¯s advice to Princess Sapientia.


    ¡°Prince Sanglant is a threat to your position only if you let him become one, Your Highness,¡± Margrave Judith was saying. Hanna stood behind Sapientia¡¯s chair, the margrave sat like an equal beside the princess in a chair almost as elaborate as the regnant¡¯s throne. All of her other attendants¡ªincluding her new husband and her bastard son¡ªstood while the two noblewomen conversed. ¡°It is true that your father the king has neglected you because of his affection for the prince. I speak bluntly because it is only the common truth.¡±


    She spoke bluntly because she was powerful enough to do so. A sidewise glance brought Hanna a glimpse of Ivar¡¯s bowed head. He had a flush in his cheeks that bothered Hanna, as if a disease had come to roost within him that he was not yet aware of. Yet in such a situation, she could not hope to speak to him.


    ¡°What do you advise?¡± Too restless to sit still for long, Sapientia jumped up and began to pace. ¡°I do not dislike my brother, although I admit since we rescued him from Gent he behaves strangely, more like a dog than a man.¡±


    ¡°His mother was not even human, which no doubt accounts for it.¡± Judith lifted a hand and Hugh, obedient son, brought her a cup of wine. He moved so gracefully. Hanna could scarcely believe she had seen this elegant courtier strike Liath with cold fury. He was so different, here at court. Indeed, he was so very different in all ways from the men in Heart¡¯s Rest, the village where she had grown up: his elegant manners; his fine clothes; his beautiful voice; his clean hands. ¡°But women were made by God to administer and create and men to fight and toil,¡± continued Judith. ¡°Cultivate your brother as a wise farming-woman cultivates her fields, and you will gain a rich harvest for your efforts. He is a notable fighter, and he carries the luck of your family with him on the battlefield. Use his good qualities to support your own position as heir to the regnant. Do not be so foolish as to believe the whispers that Henry wishes to make him Heir. The princes of Wendar and Varre will not let themselves be ruled by a bastard, certainly not a male bastard, and one as well who has only half the blood of humankind in him.¡±


    Sapientia paused by the window. Something she saw outside caused her to turn back and regard Margrave Judith with a half smile. ¡°Count Lavastine¡¯s heir was once named a bastard. And now he is legitimate¡ªand marrying my cousin this very night!¡±


    ¡°Tallia is an embarrassment. Henry did well to give her as a gift to Count Lavastine as reward for Lavastine¡¯s service to him at Gent. It rids Henry of Tallia.¡±


    ¡°And gives Lavastine a bride with royal connections for his heir,¡± said Sapientia thoughtfully. ¡°I think you did not meet Lord Geoffrey, who is Lavastine¡¯s cousin and was his heir before Lord Alain appeared. He is a nobleman in every respect, certainly worthy of the county and title.¡±


    ¡°Lavastine is cunning. Once Lord Alain and Lady Tallia produce an heir, Henry will be forced to support Alain if Lord Geoffrey contests the succession.¡±


    Hugh spoke suddenly. ¡°What if King Henry decides to marry Prince Sanglant in like manner, to give him legitimacy?¡±


    Startled, Judith glanced at him as if she had forgotten he was there. ¡°Do you actually think Henry so far gone in his affection for Sanglant that he would consider such a thing?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said curtly.


    ¡°No,¡± retorted Sapientia. ¡°I am Heir. I have Hippolyte to prove my worthiness. It¡¯s just that you hate Sanglant, Hugh. I see how you detest him. You can¡¯t bear that I might like him, even though we grew up together and he always treated me kindly when we were children. But your mother is right.¡± Judith nodded in acknowledgment, but Hanna noted how hard her gaze was upon her son, as if she sought to plumb his depths and thereby know his mind. ¡°Sanglant is no threat to my position¡ªunless I let him become one. And by seeming to fear him because my father favors him and shows an old fondness for him, it weakens me¡ªnot him.¡± She spun around to look at Hanna. ¡°Is that not so, Eagle? Is that not exactly what you said to me yesterday?¡±

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    Ai, Lady! They all looked at her. She wished abruptly that she had never spoken such rash words to Sapientia. But Sapientia, if young and foolish, had promise if only someone bothered to give her practical advice, and Hanna had a store of practical advice harvested from her own mother.


    ¡°Wise counsel,¡± said Margrave Judith with a gleam in her eyes that made Hanna exceedingly nervous. ¡°What do you say, Hugh?¡±


    Hugh had a certain quirk to his lips that betrayed irritation. He smiled to cover it now. His voice remained as smooth as honey, and as sweet. ¡°It is God¡¯s will that sister love brother. For the rest of us, we must treat weak and strong alike with equal compassion.¡±


    ¡°Still,¡± mused Judith, ¡°I had not considered the possibility of a marriage for Prince Sanglant. I will propose to Henry that he marry Sanglant to my Theucinda.¡±


    ¡°You would marry your own legitimate daughter to my bastard brother?¡± asked Sapientia, astonished.


    In her mind¡¯s ear, Hanna could hear her mother¡¯s voice commenting. She knew exactly what Mistress Birta would say: that Margrave Judith, a wise administrator, was merely gathering the entire flock of chickens into her own henhouse.


    ¡°Theucinda is my third daughter, just now of age. Gerberga and Bertha have their duties, their estates, and their husbands and heirs in Austra and Olsatia. Theucinda can serve me in this way, if I think it advantageous.¡± She drained her cup, still watching her son. ¡°But I do not concern myself as much with Sanglant¡¯s marriage. Do not forget that Henry may marry again.¡±


    ¡°As you did,¡± said Hugh stiffly, glancing toward Baldwin and as quickly away as if embarrassed to be caught looking.


    Judith chuckled. ¡°What is this frown, my pet? I must have my amusements.¡± By not glancing toward Baldwin she called attention to his presence because everyone else then looked at him. The poor boy was, truthfully, the prettiest creature Hanna had ever seen; as was now commonly said among the servings folk, he had the face of an angel.


    Hugh seemed about to speak. Abruptly he moved forward to take his mother¡¯s empty wine cup and have it refilled. When he returned it to her, she touched his wrist as lightly as a butterfly lights on a flower to sip its nectar, and for a moment Hanna thought that something passed between them, mother and son an unspoken message understood by what could be read in the gaze and in the language of the body. But she did not hold the key to interpret it.


    When Judith left, Ivar was hustled away together with Baldwin, and Hanna could only catch his eye as he crossed the threshold. He lifted a hand as if in reply, and then was gone. For the rest of the day, preparations for the wedding feast consumed her attention. Mercifully, Hathui pressed her into service to escort two wagons to an outlying farmstead where stores of honey and beeswax candles had been set aside for the regnant¡¯s use as their yearly rent.


    She loitered at the farmstead, talking to the old beekeeper while his adult children and two laborers loaded the two wagons with casks of honey and carefully wrapped bundles of delicate wax. His youngest son eyed her with interest.


    ¡°Ach, the king himself!¡± said the old man, whom Hanna quite liked. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen King Henry. It¡¯s said he¡¯s a handsome man, strong and tall and a fine general.¡±


    ¡°So he is.¡±


    ¡°But I have seen Arnulf the Younger with these own eyes, and that sight I¡¯ll never forget. He came here by this very farm when I was a young man, with his escort all in rich clothes and with such fine horses that it nearly blinded a man to see them. I remember that he had a scar under his left ear, somewhat fresh. He rode with an Eagle at his right side, just like you, a common Eagle! Only it were a man. Strange it were, to see a common man riding next to the king like his best companion. But he died.¡±


    ¡°The Eagle?¡± asked Hanna, curious now.


    ¡°Nay, King Arnulf. Died many a year ago and the son come onto the throne for the elder girl couldn¡¯t bear children and it isn¡¯t any use to have an heir if she can¡¯t bear children in her turn, is it now?¡± He glanced toward one of the adults, a tired-looking woman who had an angry lift to her mouth. A number of small children helped¡ªor hindered¡ªthe labor, but none of them ran to her. ¡°Ach, well, they say Henry has children of his own and a fine son who got him the throne, who¡¯s captain of the Dragons, they say.¡±


    ¡°That would be Prince Sanglant.¡± They all looked at her so expectantly that she felt obliged to give them a quick tale of the fall of Gent and its retaking.


    ¡°Ach, now!¡± exclaimed the old man when she had finished. ¡°That¡¯s a story!¡± He gestured to his youngest son, and the lad brought a mug of sweetened vinegar so tart despite the honeyed flavor that Hanna could not keep from puckering her mouth while her hosts laughed good-naturedly.

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    ¡°Now, then,¡± said the old beekeeper, gesturing toward the son. ¡°Can you do me a favor, Eagle? If you¡¯d take the lad with you, he could see the king and walk back home after. He¡¯s got a yearning to see the king, and how can I say ¡®nay¡¯ to him, who was the last gift my poor dead wife gave me?¡±


    The lad¡¯s name was Arnulf, no doubt in memory of the dead king; he had light hair and a pleasant if undistinguished face except for a pair of stark blue eyes that held such a wealth of wordless pleading in them that Hanna did not have the heart to say no. Arnulf proved to be no trouble, although he asked a hundred questions as he walked alongside the wagons, driven by two skeptical wagoneers in the service of the king¡¯s stewards who had grown so accustomed to the presence of the king on their daily travels that they were amused by the lad¡¯s excitement.


    As they passed a stand of woods, a pack of riders swept by to the right. Hanna recognized them because of the dogs. She called out: ¡°Look there. That is Prince Sanglant.¡± The lad gaped.


    ¡°They say he¡¯s run mad,¡± said the first wagoneer, to which the second retorted, ¡°He¡¯s never harmed any but the king¡¯s enemies. You won¡¯t find a better captain than Prince Sanglant. I hear such stories¡­.¡±


    Hanna caught sight of Hathui riding down the track, and hailed her.


    ¡°I see you have what you came for,¡± said Hathui, reining in beside Hanna. ¡°Wish me good fortune in my own hunt. I¡¯m to bring him back in time for the feasting tonight.¡± She lifted a chin to indicate the riders who had just vanished into the copse.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with him? Many things are whispered, that he¡¯s more dog than man now.¡±


    Hathui shaded a hand to get a better look at the trees. ¡°Chained among the Eika for a year?¡± She shrugged. ¡°At least those prisoners the Quman take are made slaves and given work to do. It¡¯s a miracle he¡¯s alive at all.¡± Her gaze had a sharp sympathy. ¡°Don¡¯t forget how he fought outside Gent when he was finally released.¡±


    Hanna smiled. ¡°Nay, I¡¯ve not become Sapientia¡¯s advocate against him. But do you think it¡¯s true, what¡¯s rumored, that Henry has it in mind to name Sanglant as his heir instead of his legitimate daughter?¡±


    Hathui¡¯s frown was all the answer she would give as she nodded at Hanna and rode away.


    Hanna left the wagons and wagoneers by the pit-houses that served the kitchens and let Arnulf follow her to the great open yard that fronted chapel, hall, and the royal residence. There, as luck would have it, king and court had gathered outside to cheer on bouts of wrestling. Hanna made her way through the crowd to the side of Princess Sapientia. Catching the princess¡¯ eye, Hanna knelt before her. With a graceless exhalation of surprise, the lad plopped down beside her.


    ¡°Your Highness.¡± Sapientia was in a good mood, all light and charm made bright by that very energy that so often made her look foolish. ¡°Here is Arnulf, the beekeeper¡¯s son. He has escorted us from his father¡¯s farmstead with honey and candle-wax.


    Sapientia smiled on the young man, called over the steward who oversaw her treasury, and handed young Arnulf two silver sceattas. ¡°For your dowry,¡± she said. She hailed her father.


    Henry came attended by Villam and Judith. He was laughing, not immoderately but with pure good humor, infectious and yet dignified. But when Sapientia indicated the young man who stared in awe at this apparition, the king¡¯s posture changed.


    He sobered; he turned the full force of his gaze on the young man and, with a firm hand, touched him on the head. ¡°My blessing on you and your kin,¡± he said, then removed his hand. That quickly, he returned to his jest with his companions, and they strolled away while Margrave Judith pointed out the young man-at-arms who was next to challenge the champion.


    Hanna led the quaking Arnulf away. ¡°What are these?¡± he whispered, holding out the sceattas.


    ¡°They¡¯re coins. You can exchange them for goods in the marketplace down in the lower enclosure, although you¡¯d best not do so today, for they¡¯ll know you¡¯re not used to bargaining and they¡¯ll cheat you.¡±


    ¡°My dowry,¡± he murmured. He blinked so many times she thought for a moment he was about to faint. He turned to her. ¡°Will you marry me?¡± he demanded.


    Hanna choked down a laugh and instead smiled kindly. ¡°Go on, lad,¡± she said, feeling immeasurably older although she guessed they were of an age. ¡°Take the coins and your blessing home to your kinfolk.¡± She led him to the gate and watched him walk away, still unsteady on his feet.

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    On her way back to Sapientia, she saw Ivar standing in the doorway to the residence where Margrave Judith had taken up quarters. He saw her, beckoned, and ducked inside. She followed him over the threshold. ¡°Ivar?¡±


    ¡°Hush!¡± He drew her into a small storeroom where servants¡¯ pallets lined one wall. The closed shutters made the room dim and stuffy. He embraced her. ¡°Oh, Hanna! I thought I would never see you again! I¡¯m not allowed to speak to women.¡±


    She kissed him on either cheek, the kinswoman¡¯s greeting. ¡°I¡¯m not just any woman!¡± she said unsteadily. ¡°I nursed at the same breast. Surely we can speak together without fear of punishment.¡±


    ¡°Nay,¡± he whispered, opening the door a crack to see out into the corridor, then returning to her. ¡°Rosvita wanted to see me, but it was forbidden, though she¡¯s a cleric, and my sister. But she would only have scolded me anyway, so I¡¯m glad I didn¡¯t see her!¡±


    Hanna sighed. He was as passionately thoughtless as ever. ¡°Well, you¡¯ve certainly filled out through the shoulders, Ivar. You look more like your father than ever. But are you well? Why aren¡¯t you at Quedlinhame?¡±


    He still shook his head the same way, red curls all unruly, face gone stubborn. He always jumped before he measured the ground. ¡°Is it true? That the king means Lady Tallia to marry? They mustn¡¯t despoil her! She must remain the pure vessel of God¡¯s truth.¡± He wrenched away from her again, clapping his hands to his forehead in an attitude of despair and frustration. ¡°They¡¯ll do to her what they did to Baldwin! They care nothing for vows sworn honestly to the church!¡±


    ¡°Hush, Ivar. Hush, now.¡± She drew his hands down from his head and pressed a palm against his forehead, but he wasn¡¯t hot. His voice had the fever in it, not his skin. ¡°Why aren¡¯t you at Quedlinhame? Did your father send for you?¡±


    He made a strange gesture, left index finger drawn down his chest over his breastbone. ¡°If you¡¯d seen¡ª¡±


    ¡°Seen what?¡±


    ¡°The miracle of the rose. The marks of flaying on her palms. You¡¯d believe in the sacrifice and redemption. You¡¯d know the truth which has been concealed.¡±


    Nervous, she pulled away from him and bumped up against the wall. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about, Ivar. Is this some madness that¡¯s gotten into you?¡±


    ¡°No madness.¡± He groped for her hand, found it, and tugged her against the wall. Her boot wrinkled the edge of a neatly-folded wool blanket, uncovering a posy of pressed flowers beneath, a love token. ¡°The Translatus is a lie, Hanna. The blessed Daisan didn¡¯t pray for seven days, as they wrote in the Holy Verses. He wasn¡¯t lifted bodily into the Chamber of Light. It¡¯s all a lie.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re scaring me. Isn¡¯t that a heresy?¡± Surely the minions of the Enemy had burrowed inside him and now spoke through his lips. She tried to edge away, but his grip was strong.


    ¡°So has the church taught falsely for years. The blessed Daisan was flayed alive by the order of the Empress Thaisannia. His heart was cut out of him, but his heart¡¯s blood bloomed on the Earth as a red rose. He suffered, and he died. But he lived again and ascended to the Chamber of Light and through his suffering cleansed us of our sin.¡±


    ¡°Ivar!¡± Perhaps the curtness of her voice shocked him into silence. ¡°Let me go!¡±


    He dropped her hand. ¡°You¡¯ll do as Liath did. Abandon me. Only Lady Tallia wasn¡¯t afraid to walk where the rest of us were imprisoned. Only she brought us hope.¡±


    ¡°Lady Tallia is spreading these lies?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the truth! Hanna¡ª¡±


    ¡°Nay, Ivar. I won¡¯t speak of such things with you. Now hush and listen to me, and please answer me this time, I beg you. Why aren¡¯t you at Quedlinhame?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m being taken to the monastery founded in the memory of St. Walaricus the Martyr. In Eastfall.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a fair long way. Did you ask to be sent there?¡±


    ¡°Nay. They separated the four of us¡ªthat is, me, and Baldwin, and Ermanrich, and Sigfrid¡ªbecause we listened to Lady Tallia¡¯s preaching. Because we saw the miracle of the rose, and they don¡¯t want anyone to know. That¡¯s why they cast Lady Tallia out of the convent.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Ivar.¡± Despite the fever that had overtaken him, she could only see him as the overeager boy she had grown up with. ¡°You must pray to God to bring peace to your spirit.¡±


    ¡°How can I have peace?¡± Suddenly he began to cry. His voice got hoarse. ¡°Have you seen Liath? Is she here? Why haven¡¯t I seen her?¡±

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    ¡°Ivar!¡± She felt obliged to scold him despite what he¡¯d said about Rosvita. ¡°Listen to the words of a sister, for I can call myself that. Liath isn¡¯t meant for you. She rides as an Eagle now.¡±


    ¡°She abandoned me at Quedlinhame! I said I would marry her, I said we would ride away together¡ª¡±


    ¡°After you¡¯d sworn vows as a novice?¡±


    ¡°Against my will! She said she¡¯d marry me, but then she just rode away when the king left!¡±


    ¡°That isn¡¯t fair! She told me of your meeting. God Above! What was she to do? You¡¯d already sworn vows. You had no prospects, no support¡ªand she has no kinfolk¡ª¡±


    ¡°She said she loved someone else, another man,¡± said Ivar stubbornly. ¡°I think she abandoned me to be with him. I think she still loves Hugh.¡±


    ¡°She never loved Hugh! You know what he did to her!¡±


    ¡°Then what man did she mean?¡±


    She knew then, at once, whom Liath had meant, and a sick foreboding filled her heart. ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter,¡± she said hastily. ¡°She¡¯s an Eagle. And you¡¯re traveling east. Ai, God, Ivar! I might never see you again.¡±


    He gripped her elbows. ¡°Can¡¯t you help me escape?¡± Letting her go, he answered himself. ¡°But I can¡¯t abandoned Baldwin. He needs me. Ai, Lady. If only Liath had married me, if only we had run away, then none of this would have happened.¡±


    They heard voices at the door, and she hid under a cot as several of Judith¡¯s stewards came in. ¡°Ah, there he is! Lord Baldwin is asking for you, boy. Go attend him now.¡±


    Ivar had no choice but to leave. They rummaged around on other errands that at length took them into other chambers, and she slipped out, unseen. But Ivar¡¯s words troubled her into the evening, when at last king and court gathered for the wedding feast. The bridal couple were led forward wearing their best clothes. A cleric read out loud the details of the dower, what each party would bring to the marriage. Lord Alain spoke his consent in a clear, if unsteady, voice, but when it came Tallia¡¯s turn, King Henry spoke for her. Was she being forced into the marriage against her will, as Ivar claimed? Yet who would quarrel with the regnant¡¯s decision? The children of the nobility married to give advantage to their families; they had no say in the matter. Tallia was Henry¡¯s to dispose of, now that he had defeated her parents in battle.


    The local biscop had been brought in from the nearby town of Fuldas to speak a blessing over the young couple, who knelt before her to receive it. Lord Alain looked nervous and flushed and agitated. Lady Tallia looked so pale and thin that Hanna wondered if she would faint. But she did not. With hands clasped tightly before her, she merely kept her head bowed and looked at no one or no thing, not even her bridegroom.


    The long summer twilight stretched before them as they crowded into the hall. Fresh rushes had been strewn over the floor. Servants scurried in and out with trays of steaming meat or pitchers of wine and mead. Slender greyhounds slunk away under tables, waiting for scraps. Sapientia allowed Hanna to stand behind her chair and occasionally offered her morsels from her platter, a marked sign of favor which Father Hugh noted with a surprised glance and then ignored as he directed Sapientia¡¯s attention to the poet who came forward to sing.


    The poem was delivered in Dariyan, but Hugh murmured a translation to Sapientia.


    ¡°She said: Come now, you who are my own love. Come forward.


    You are the light which flames in my heart.


    Where once were only thorns there now blooms a lily.


    He replied: I walked alone in the wood.


    The solitude eased my heart.


    But now the ice melts. The flowers bloom.


    She bids him: Come! I cannot live without you.


    Roses and lilies I will strew before you.


    Let there be no delay.¡±


    Hanna flushed although she knew well enough that the words were not directed at her, but surely no man had a more beautiful voice than Hugh, and when he spoke such phrases so sweetly and with so much music in the words, even a practical young woman might feel faint with desire.


    Quickly enough she steadied herself. Lady Above! No need to be foolish. No need to let Ivar¡¯s madness infect her. There was plenty else to distract her, here at the feast. At the heart of the king¡¯s progress, she could never be bored.


    Her faithful companions from the long journey out of the Alfar Mountains, the Lions Ingo, Folquin, Leo and young Stephen, stood guard at the door. Catching her eye, Ingo nodded at her. Perhaps he winked.


    At the king¡¯s table, Margrave Judith shared a platter with Helmut Villam. Heads together, they talked with great seriousness. Baldwin sat a table down from them; despite his status as Judith¡¯s new consort and his breathtaking beauty, he did not warrant a seat at the king¡¯s table. And there sat Ivar, beside Baldwin, but he ate nothing except a few crusts of bread and a sip of wine.

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    The royal clerics ate and talked with gusto, but now and again Sister Rosvita would pause and stare at her young brother with a troubled gaze.


    The bridal pair sat on the other side of the king, so Hanna couldn¡¯t get a good look at them. But in any case the tableau that interested Hanna most was that of Hathui and Prince Sanglant. Hathui hovered behind Sanglant¡¯s chair and certain small communications seemed to pass between the Eagle and the king at intervals, unspoken but understood. The prince sat with the awkward stillness of an active man forced to stay in one place when he would rather be moving. With fists on the table, he stared at the opposite wall¡ªthat is, at nothing. On occasion Hathui would jostle him and he would recall himself and bolt down a scrap of cut meat, then hesitate, shake himself, and eat like a man¡ªonly to sink again into a stupor. Of the feasting and merriment around him he seemed unaware.


    After a suitable interval of singing, King Henry called Sister Rosvita forward. Candles were set out but not yet lit since, with all the doors flung open and the shutters taken down, the evening still bled light into the hall. The gathered folk quieted expectantly as Sister Rosvita opened a book and began to read out loud in a clear voice.


    ¡°¡®Many tales of the young Radegundis¡¯ holy deeds came to the ears of His Gracious Majesty, the illustrious Taillefer, and he had her brought to his court at Autun. The emperor could not but be swayed by her great holiness, and he determined at once to make her his queen. He entreated her to pray with him and by diverse almsgiving and acts of mercy to beggars brought her into charity with him. As her morning gift he gave her not just lands but every manner of fine gifts that she could distribute to the poor, and he pledged to feed the paupers at Baralcha every Hefensday.¡¯


    ¡°¡®In this way the saintly young woman, so determined in her vow to remain a chaste vessel so that she could embrace God with a pure heart, was overcome by the nobility of the emperor Taillefer. Wooing her in this fashion, he overcame her reluctance. Her love for his great virtues and imperial honor softened her heart, and they were married.¡¯


    ¡°¡®It is only possible to write here of a few of the many good works she accomplished in this period of her life. Early glory did not dim her ardor for God, nor did she take upon herself the trappings of royalty only to forget that the garments of the poor conceal the limbs of God.¡¯


    ¡°¡®Whenever she received part of the tribute brought before the emperor, she gave away fully half of it as her tithe to God before any was put in her own treasury. To the needy she gave clothes, and to the hungry, feasts. She built a house for poor women at Athies, and bathed the hair and sores of paupers with her own hands. To convents and monasteries she gave princely gifts. No hermit was safe from her generosity.¡¯


    ¡°¡®When his last illness laid low the emperor, she could not be torn from his side although she was great with child. She knelt beside him with such devotion that her attendants feared for her health, but she could not be shaken from her prayers and at last his passing, made gentle by her efforts, came about, and his soul was lifted to the Chamber of Light.¡¯


    ¡°¡®At that time many powerful princes flocked like carrion crows to the side of the illustrious emperor, desirous of obtaining by guile or force what he would leave behind him. Not least among these treasures stood the blessed Radegundis, a jewel among women. But she had no kin to protect her from their greed.¡¯


    ¡°¡®Still heavy with child, Radegundis clothed herself and her closest companion, a woman named Clothilde, in the garb of poor women. She chose exile over the torments of power, and she swore to marry no earthly prince but from this time on to bind herself over into God¡¯s service alone. In this way, they escaped in the night and fled to the convent of Poiterri, where they took refuge¡ª¡¯¡±


    A crash and a startled scream shuddered through the hall. Sanglant had leaped to his feet in such a state of wild excitement that he had overturned the table at which he and several others sat. A stunned silence held the feasting crowd, like a deeply indrawn breath before a shout, while he stood with head thrown back, like a beast listening for the snap of a twig in the forest.


    Then he sprang over the overturned table and bolted toward the doors, heedless of food and platters scattered under his feet, of wine splashed everywhere and now soaking into the rushes. Whippets scurried forward to snap at the spilled trays while servants scrambled to save what they could.


    ¡°Sanglant!¡± cried the king, coming to his feet, and the young man jerked to a halt as if brought up short by a chain. Perhaps only that voice could have stopped him. He did not turn to face his father. His hands shook noticeably, and he stared at the main doors so fixedly that Hanna expected a brace of Eika to come clamoring in, axes raised for a fight.

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    But no one entered. All was still except for the scuff and tap of servants cleaning up and the groan and heavy thunk of the table being tipped back onto its feet by the combined efforts of three men.


    ¡°As I was telling you, Your Highness,¡± remarked Hugh to Sapientia in a pleasant voice that carried easily in the hush that now pervaded the hall, ¡°when Queen Athelthyri of Alba was angry with certain of her subjects for fomenting rebellion against her, she set her dog Contumelus over them as their count. And quite a fine count he was, this dog, for it is said that besides wearing a neckband and a gold chain as a mark of his rank, he had a certain gift, that after he barked twice he could speak every third word.¡±


    Half the assembly tittered. Henry did not laugh, and an instant later a rash of barking came from out of doors, hounds singing a warning.


    ¡°Make way!¡± a man shouted outside. Hanna heard horses, the buzz of voices, and caught a glimpse of movement in the twilight beyond the threshold.


    Two Eagles came into the hall.


    ¡°Liath!¡± Hugh stood up so quickly that his chair tipped over behind him.


    On the other side of the hall, Ivar had to be restrained from bolting forward by Baldwin.


    Sanglant took a step forward and then froze. A thin flush of red stained his cheeks. Liath marked him; Hanna saw it by the way her step faltered, and she supposed everyone else saw it, too. He stared at her, his body turned as a flower turns with the sun so he could follow her with his gaze as she strode forward with Wolfhere to the king.


    Hugh muttered words under his breath, Hanna could not make them out.


    The two Eagles knelt before the king¡¯s table.


    ¡°Wolfhere,¡± said Henry with such dislike that the old Eagle actually winced. The king gestured. A servingman hastened around the table to give a cup of wine to Liath; she took a draught, then gave the cup to Wolfhere, who drained it.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± he began with cup still in hand.


    The king indicated that Liath should relay her messages first, but he caught her in the act of glancing over her shoulder toward Sanglant, and she stuttered out something meaningless as many among the assembly giggled, or coughed.


    ¡°I come from Weraushausen, Your Majesty,¡± she said, recovering quickly. ¡°I bring this message from Cleric Monica: She will join you with the schola. I bring also capitularies needing your seal, and a letter for Sister Rosvita from Mother Rothgard of St. Valeria Convent.¡±


    ¡°I pray it brings news of Theophanu.¡± At last Henry deigned to look upon Wolfhere, who had waited patiently under the king¡¯s censure.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± Wolfhere said briskly. ¡°I bring news from the south. Duke Conrad sends this message: That he will wait upon Your Majesty before Matthiasmass.¡±


    ¡°Why has it taken him so long to come before me after the insult he gave my Eagle?¡±


    ¡°His wife, Lady Eadgifu, died in childbed, Your Majesty.¡±


    A murmur rolled through the hall, and several women wailed out loud. The king drew the Circle at his breast. ¡°May God have mercy upon her.¡± He leaned forward to rest a fist on the table. ¡°What of the message you took to the skopos? Is it true that you believe Biscop Antonia did not die in this avalanche we have been told of?¡±


    ¡°She did not die, Your Majesty.¡±


    ¡°You have seen her alive?¡±


    ¡°I do not need to see her to know she still lives¡ªalthough I do not know how she escaped or where she is now.¡±


    ¡°I see. Go on.¡±


    ¡°Her Holiness Clementia, skopos and Mother to us all, has passed this judgment on Antonia of Karrone, once biscop of Mainni: that she be excommunicated for indulging in the arts of the malefici. ¡®Let neither woman nor man who stand within the Light of the Circle of Unity give her shelter. Let no deacon or frater take her confession or give her blessing until she bring herself before the throne of the skopos and repent of her deeds. She may no longer enter into a church and take mass. Any who consort with her or give her shelter will also be excommunicate.¡¯ These were the words of the skopos.¡±


    ¡°A harsh judgment,¡± said Henry, musing, then smiled grimly. ¡°But a just one.¡±


    ¡°That is not all the news I bring,¡± continued Wolfhere, and the king looked at him expectantly, inclined, perhaps, to look kindly on him for bringing news so favorable to Henry¡¯s interests. He gestured for Wolfhere to go on. ¡°Queen Gertrudis of Aosta is dead, Your Majesty, and in Ventuno King Demetrius lies on his deathbed and has received last rites.¡±


    A profound stillness, coming over the face of the king, spread quickly until the hush that pervaded the hall caused even the greyhounds to sink down and lay their heads on their paws.

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    ¡°King Demetrius is without heirs, as you yourself know, my lord king. His heirs and those who contested for his share of the Aostan throne long since wasted themselves in wars in the south or else they were carried off by the pestilence brought by Jinna raiders into the southern ports. But Queen Gertrudis left one child, her daughter Adelheid, who is recently widowed.¡±


    ¡°Widowed,¡± said Henry. He looked¡ªand everyone turned to look at him¡ªat his son. Sangant stood as quiescent, or as stupefied, as the greyhounds, staring at Liath. ¡°She is the legitimate claimant to the throne of Aosta.¡±


    ¡°So she is, Your Majesty,¡± said Wolfhere, who alone in the hall did not look at Prince Sanglant. ¡°And but twenty years of age. Rumor has it that her kinfolk are now so denuded by plague and war that she has no male relatives to fight with her for her claim.¡±


    Henry shut his eyes briefly. Opening them, he gestured to the two Eagles to rise. ¡°The Lord and Lady have heard me,¡± he said in a voice made thick with emotion, ¡°and listened to my prayers.¡± He spoke softly into the ear of a steward, and as Liath and Wolfhere retreated and were escorted outside, a party of tumblers hurried forward to entertain the court.


    So the merriment and feasting resumed.


    But Sanglant, moving aside to make room for the tumblers, pressed himself against the wall and instead of returning to his seat made his way to the door and slipped outside. A moment later, Hugh excused himself and left. Ivar made to get up, but Judith¡¯s young husband pulled him back into his chair and whispered urgently into his ear.


    When Hanna moved to follow him, Sapientia called to her. ¡°Eagle! Look there! How do you think that girl balances on that rope?¡±


    Given no choice, she had to stay where she was.


    III


    THE LOCKED CHEST


    1


    ¡°WHAT means this?¡± asked Wolfhere harshly as they left the hall.


    A servingwoman brought them food and ale and left them to sit on a bench to take their supper in peace. Liath smiled wryly as Wolfhere glared at her. Peace, indeed. The first stars had bloomed in the heavens above¡ªthe three jewels of the Queen¡¯s sky promising momentary splendor¡ªbut in the west the sky still wore the blush of sunset.


    ¡°You are silent,¡± Wolfhere observed. They hadn¡¯t eaten since taking bread and cider at midday at an isolated farm, but he ignored the platter set on the bench beside him, although a fresh cut of roast pig steamed up most invitingly.


    Liath concentrated on the food because she was starving. Wolfhere would get his answer soon enough. She had gulped down most of the food on her half of the platter when she saw him make his way through the crowd of retainers who had flocked around the entrance to watch the entertainment within. Embarrassed to be caught bolting her food, she wiped her mouth with the back of a hand and stood. Wolfhere jumped up as Sanglant eased free of the crowd and walked toward them.


    ¡°What means this?¡± Wolfhere demanded again.


    ¡°What matters it to you? What right do you have to interfere?¡± But she was only angry at him because of the fearful pounding of her own heart as the prince stopped before her. He had filled out in the past twenty days and had his hair trimmed neatly, but the haunted look in his eyes hadn¡¯t dissipated. He wore a rich linen tunic trimmed with silver-and-gold-threaded embroidery, cut to fit his height; with a sword swinging in a magnificent red-leather sheath at his belt and several fine rings on his fingers, he looked very much the royal prince and courtier. Only the rough iron collar bound at his neck spoiled the picture. Perhaps it choked him: He seemed unable to speak, and now that he stood so close she could not think of one single word.


    ¡°Do not forget the oath you took as an Eagle,¡± said Wolfhere suddenly. ¡°Do not forget the news I brought you, Liath!¡±


    ¡°Leave us,¡± said Sanglant without taking his gaze off Liath.


    Not even Wolfhere dared disobey a direct command. He grunted with irritation, spun, and stalked off without taking supper or ale with him.


    ¡°I kept the book safe for you, as I promised.¡± His hoarse voice made the words seem even more fraught with meaning; but his voice always sounded like that. ¡°The question I asked you ¡­ have you an answer for me?¡± Shouts and laughter swelled out from the hall, and he glanced back toward the doors and muttered something under his voice more growl than words.


    ¡°You were half mad. How can I be sure you meant what you asked?¡±


    He laughed¡ªthe old laugh she recalled from Gent when, under siege, he had lived each day as if he cared not whether another came for him. ¡°Ai, Lady! Say you will marry me, and let us have done with this!¡±

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    Impulsively, she raised a hand to touch his face. No trace of beard chafed her fingers. This close, she could smell him: sweat, dust, the fading scent of recently-dyed cloth, all of it sharp and overwhelming. Nothing of his Eika prison remained. In the wild lands beyond the city of memory, frozen under ice, the summer sun flooded the wilderness smothered in ice with a heat so intense that it ripped through her with the power of liquid fire: A torch flared across the yard, surprised murmurs rose from inside the hall, and she staggered under the hideous memory of the palace at Augensburg going up in flames.


    He drew her hand down to his chest. His touch was like the wash of cool water, soothing, quieting, healing. Where he held her hand pressed against his tunic, she felt the beat of his heart. He was not less unsteady than she was.


    Lady Above! This was madness. But she couldn¡¯t bring herself to move away.


    Suddenly, Sanglant threw back his head and half-growled, pushed her brusquely aside as he stepped forward. Surprised, turning, she saw Hugh behind her with an arm outstretched to grab her. She yelped and began to bolt, but Sanglant had already put himself between her and the enemy. She began to shake, could do nothing more than press a hand weakly against Sanglant¡¯s back.


    ¡°Hugh,¡± said Sanglant in the way that a devout man utters one of the thousand names of the Enemy.


    ¡°She is mine.¡± Hugh looked so consumed by rage that for an instant she scarcely recognized the elegant courtier who graced the king¡¯s progress. Then he controlled himself. ¡°And I will have her back.¡±


    Sanglant snorted. ¡°She belongs to no man, nor woman either. Her service as a King¡¯s Eagle is pledged to the regnant.¡±


    Hugh did not back down. Sanglant was taller, and broader across the shoulders; certainly Sanglant had the posture of a man well-trained at war. But Hugh had that indefinable aura of confidence of a man who always gets what he wants. ¡°We may as well set this straight now so that there are no further misunder-standings between us, my lord prince. She is my slave and has been in the past my concubine. Do not believe otherwise, no matter what she tells you.¡±


    The words fell like ice, but Sanglant did not move to expose her. ¡°At least I do not number among my faults having to compel women to lie with me.¡±


    The difference between them was that Hugh made no unstudied movement, allowed no unthought expression to mar either his beauty or his poise, while Sanglant made no such pretense¡ªor perhaps he had simply forgotten what it meant to be a man, a creature halfway between the beasts and the angels.


    The smile that touched Hugh¡¯s lips fell short of a sneer; rather, he looked saddened and amused as he slid his gaze past Sanglant to fix on Liath. She could not look away from him. ¡°¡®Whoever has unnatural connection with a beast shall be put to death,¡¯¡± he said softly.


    She grabbed the cup of ale and dashed the liquid into his face. Shaking, she lost hold of the cup. It thudded onto the bench, rolled, and struck her foot. But the pain only brought her fully awake, out of the blinding haze of desire that had surged over her when she first walked into the hall and saw Sanglant waiting for her.


    Someone laughed; not Sanglant. The prince¡¯s fingers touched her sleeve, to rein her back.


    Hugh laughed, delighted, even as he licked ale from his lips. He did not wipe the ale from his face or blot it from the damp front of his handsomely-embroidered tunic, grape leaves entwined with purple flowers. She was so painfully alive to the currents running between them that Hugh¡¯s laughter came this time with revelation: Her defiance excited him physically. He laughed to cover it, to release an energy fueled of fury and lust.


    ¡°I am an Eagle.¡± The hate she felt for what he¡¯d done to her spilled into the words. ¡°I pledged my service to King Henry.¡± But with each of her defiant words, his fury built; she could feel it like an actual hand gripping her throat. He would hit her again. And again. No matter how much anger she spat at him he was still stronger. If Sanglant¡¯s fingers had not steadied her, she would have fled.


    But Hugh liked the chase.


    ¡°I¡¯m not your slave!¡±


    ¡°We shall see,¡± said Hugh, all elegance and hauteur even with the last traces of ale trickling along the curve of his jaw. ¡°We shall see, my rose, whether King Henry judges the matter in my favor¡ªor in Wolfhere¡¯s.¡± With a thin smile, confident of victory, he left them.


    It took five heartbeats for the words to register, and when they did, she went weak at the knees and collapsed onto the bench. ¡°He¡¯ll take it before the king. He¡¯ll protest he didn¡¯t consent to give me up, that Wolfhere bought off the debt price unlawfully. You know how the king hates Wolfhere!¡±. Her chest felt caught in a vise. ¡°I¡¯m lost!¡±

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    ¡°Liath!¡± His hand cupped her elbow and he lifted her up. ¡°I beg you, Liath, look at me.¡±


    She looked up. She had forgotten how green his eyes were. The wildish underglaze in them had not vanished entirely, but it had fled back as if to hide, leaving him with a clear gaze, determined and dead stubborn.


    ¡°Liath, if you consent to marry me, then I can protect you from him.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re half mad, Sanglant,¡± she murmured.


    ¡°So I am. God Above! I¡¯d be nothing but a beast in truth if you hadn¡¯t saved me! No better than those dogs that bite at my heels. But you waited for me all that time. Knowing that, I kept hold of what it means to be a man instead of becoming only a chained beast for him to torment.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand you. Ai, Lady! It¡¯s true what Hugh said of me, made his slave and his¡ª¡± The shame was too deep. She could not get the word out.


    He shrugged it away as if it meant nothing to him, then drew her aside. ¡°Let us move away from here. Half the crowd is watching us instead of the entertainers.¡± But he paused abruptly, glanced back. A not inconsiderable number of the folk gathered outside the hall, having no good view in to where the tumbling troupe entertained king and company, had turned to watch a scene no doubt as entertaining, as well as one sure to make them the center of attention at every table and fire for the next few days when it came time to gossip about court. Some pointed; other simply stared, servants beside wagoneers, grooms and doghandlers, laundresses with their chapped hands and servingwomen with trays wedged against their hips, giggling or whispering although they stood too far away to hear words. Had they all seen her throw the ale into Hugh¡¯s face? Could they possibly wonder what Sanglant¡¯s interest in her betokened? Hadn¡¯t he been famous for his love of women?


    That had all been before Bloodheart.


    ¡°Nay, let them see,¡± he muttered. ¡°Let them know, and carry the tale as they will in any case.¡± He took her hands in his, fingers curling over hers, enveloping them. ¡°Liath, marry me. But if you will not, I will still protect you. I so swear. I know I am¡ªam¡ª¡± He winced, slapping at his ear as if to drive off an annoying bug. ¡°¡ªI am not what I was. Lord in Heaven! They whisper of me. They say things. They ridicule me. If I only¡ªAi!¡± He could not get words out. He seemed helpless, and furious at his helplessness like a captured wolf beating itself into a stupor against the bars of its cage. ¡°If only my father would give me lands, then there I could find peace. Ai, God, and the quiet I pray for, with you at my side. I only want healing.¡± His voice was ragged with heart¡¯s pain; but then, his voice always sounded like that.


    But to whom else would he have made such a confession? To no one but her.


    Hadn¡¯t she turned away from the Aoi sorcerer for this? She kissed him.


    It didn¡¯t last long, her lips touching his, although it was utterly intoxicating. He jerked back, stumbling.


    ¡°Not out here!¡± A flush suffused him.


    ¡°Wise counsel, Your Highness,¡± said a new voice, flatly calm and wry along with it. ¡°Liath!¡± Hathui walked toward them out of the gloom. She stopped neatly between them, fittingly so: taller than Liath, she was not of course nearly as tall as Sanglant but substantial nevertheless. ¡°Your Highness.¡± The bow she gave him was curt but not disrespectful. ¡°The king your father is concerned that you have been absent for so long. He asks that you attend him.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Sanglant.


    ¡°I beg you, Your Highness.¡± She faced him squarely. ¡°My comrade is safe with me. I will keep an eye on her.¡±


    ¡°Liath, you haven¡¯t yet¡ª¡±


    ¡°Nay, she¡¯s right.¡± It was like struggling to keep your head above water in a strong current. She had to stroke on her own. ¡°Just¡ªnow¡ªit would be better.¡± It had all happened so quickly.


    He stilled, took in a shuddering breath. ¡°I have the book.¡± He strode off.


    ¡°He looks like he¡¯s headed down to the river for a long cold swim,¡± observed Hathui. She made a sign, and half a dozen Lions took off after him, keeping their distance.


    Liath nudged the empty cup with her toe and bent to pick it up.


    ¡°Rumor flies fast,¡± added Hathui, taking the cup out of Liath¡¯s hand and spinning it around. It had a coarse wood surface, nothing fine¡ªbut sturdy and serviceable. She snorted. ¡°Did you really toss ale in his face?¡±


    ¡°What am I to do?¡± she wailed.


    ¡°Courageously spoken. You, my friend, stick next to me or to Wolfhere. Else I fear you¡¯ll do something very foolish indeed.¡±

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    ¡°But Hugh means to protest the debt price. He¡¯ll take the case before the king, and you know how the king hates Wolfhere. What if he gives me back to Hugh?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand King Henry very well, do you?¡± said Hathui coolly. ¡°Now come. There¡¯s a place above the stables set aside for Eagles¡ªand well protected by Lions. You¡¯ll be safe to sleep there. Perhaps your head will be clearer in the morning.¡±


    She followed Hathui meekly. ¡°Prince Sanglant has nothing, you know,¡± said Hathui suddenly. ¡°Nothing but what the king gives him, no arms, no horse, no retinue, no lands, no inheritance from his mother except his blood¡ªand that is distrusted by most of the court.¡±


    ¡°Nothing!¡± Liath retorted, furious on his behalf that he could be judged and found wanting in such a crass material manner, then faltered. Hathui spoke truth in the only way that mattered outside the spiritual walls of the church. ¡°But I don¡¯t care,¡± she murmured stubbornly, and in response heard only Hathui¡¯s gusting sigh.


    In a way, it was a relief to find the stables tenanted by dozing Lions, a few Eagles, and by Wolfhere sitting outside on a log with a lantern burning at his feet while he ate supper. He looked mightily irritated but mercifully said nothing, only touched Hathui¡¯s shoulder by way of greeting and whispered something into her ear which Liath could not hear. But she didn¡¯t have Sanglant¡¯s unnaturally acute hearing.


    ¡°Go to sleep, Liath,¡± he said stiffly once he deigned to acknowledge her. He was still angry. ¡°We¡¯ll speak in the morning.¡±


    Shouts rang out from the distant hall, followed by laughter and a burst of song.


    ¡°They¡¯re carrying bride and groom to their wedding bed,¡± said Hathui.


    ¡°Bride and groom?¡± asked Liath, startled. ¡°Who is wed this night?¡± She could have been wed this night, by the law of consent. But it had happened too fast. She had to catch her breath before she took the irrevocable step.


    Hathui laughed but Wolfhere only grunted, still annoyed. ¡°I like this not,¡± he muttered.


    ¡°That there¡¯s a wedding?¡± she asked, still confused.


    ¡°That you were blind to it and everything else going on hereabouts,¡± he retorted. ¡°Go on, Hathui. The king will be looking for you.¡±


    She nodded and left, her proud figure fading into the gloom.


    Liath did not like to be alone with Wolfhere. He had a way of looking at her, mild but with a grim glint deep in his eyes, that made her horribly uncomfortable.


    ¡°I beg you, Liath,¡± he said, his voice made harsh by an emotion she could not identify, ¡°don¡¯t be tempted by him.¡±


    Torches flared distantly and pipes skirled as drums took up a brisk four-square rhythm. Dancing had begun out in the yard. No doubt the celebration would last all night. Wolfhere scuffed at the dirt and took a sip of ale, then held out the cup as a peace offering.


    ¡°Hugh will ask the king to give me back to him,¡± she said abruptly.


    Wolfhere raised an eyebrow, surprised. ¡°So he will, I suppose. He threatened as much in Heart¡¯s Rest the day I freed you from him.¡±


    ¡°The king hates you, Wolfhere. Why?¡±


    The smile that quirked up his mouth was touched with an irony that made his expression look strangely comforting and, even, trustworthy: A man who faces his own faults so openly surely cannot mean to harm others for the sake of his own vanity or greed.


    ¡°Why?¡± he echoed her. ¡°Why, indeed. It¡¯s an old story and one I thought had been put to rest. But so it has not proved.¡±


    Still she did not take the cup from him. ¡°It has to do with Sanglant.¡±


    ¡°Everything has to do with Sanglant,¡± said Wolfhere cryptically, and would say no more.


    2


    THE day passed in quiet solitude. A heavy mist bound the circle of stones, cutting them off from the world beyond. The Aoi woman meditated, seated cross-legged on the ground, her eyes closed, her body as still as if no soul inhabited it. Once, Zacharias would have prayed, but he no longer had anyone to pray to. For part of the day he dozed; later, he plucked and gutted the two grouse the Aoi woman had shot at dawn.


    It had been a great honor for his kinfolk when he, a freeholder¡¯s son, had been ordained as a frater in the church by reason of his true singing voice, his clever tongue, and his excellent memory for scripture. But none of these were qualities the Quman respected in a man. They had cut so much from him that he could scarcely recall the man he had once been, proud and determined and eager to walk alone into the land of the savages to bring them into the Light of the Unities. It had all seemed so clear, then. He had had many names: son, nephew, brother. Brother Zacharias, a title his mother had repeated with pride. His younger sister had admired him. Would she admire him now?

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    At twilight the mist cleared off, and he walked nervously to the edge of the stone circle, but saw nothing, no one, no sign of Bulkezu or his riders on the grass or along the horizon.


    ¡°We need a fire.¡±


    He started, surprised and startled by her voice, but she had already turned away to rummage in one of her strange five-fingered pouches. He checked the horse¡¯s hobble, then descended the hill to the stream that ran along the low ground. With the moon to light him, he found it easy enough to pick up sticks. The night was alive with animals, and each least rustle in the undergrowth made him snap around in fear that one of Bulkezu¡¯s warriors waited to capture him and drag him back to slavery.


    It seemed mere breaths ago that he had heard Bulkezu¡¯s howl. The sound of it still echoed in his ears, but slowly the gurgle of the stream and the sighing of wind through reeds and undergrowth smeared the memory into silence.


    He sloshed in the stream, testing reed grass with his fingers until he found stalks to twist together into rope as his grandmother had taught him. But he was still skittish, and he made such a hasty job of it that no sooner had he returned to the stone circle than the reed rope splayed and unraveled, spilling sticks everywhere.


    The Aoi woman merely glanced at him, then indicated where to pile the wood.


    ¡°I will be worthy of you,¡± he whispered. If she heard him, she made no answer.


    She crouched on her haunches to build the fire, sparked flint until wood lit. As she spoke lilting words, odd swirls of light fled through the leaping fire, twining and unraveling to make patterns within. Reflexively, Zacharias began to trace the Circle at his chest, the sign to avert witchcraft. But he stopped himself. If the old gods had been good enough for his grandmother, they would be good enough for him. The old gods had protected his grandmother; she had lived to an incredible age, and she had outlived all but two of her twelve children. Her luck had always held.


    And anyway, if the Aoi woman meant to harm him with witchcraft, then there was nothing he could do about it now.


    ¡°Blessed Mother!¡± he whispered, staring as the fire shifted and changed.


    He crept forward and stared into the whip of flames. It was like looking through an insubstantial archway of fire into another world.


    A figure, tall, broad-shouldered but thin at the ribs, shed its clothing and dove into the streaming currents of a river. He was, manifestly, male. That he would willingly enter water meant he was no kin of the Quman tribe, and although the flicker of fire gave Zacharias no clear picture of the figure¡¯s features, the man somewhat resembled his Aoi mistress. But his clothing, lying in a careless heap on the shore, betrayed his origins: It was what civilized men wore, the rich clothing of a lord. A moment later six men scurried down to the river¡¯s bank as if on his trail. Bearded and armed, they wore tabards marked with a black lion: Wendish solders, serving the regnant. And if that was so, then who was the man who had gone into the water, and why were they following him?


    The Aoi woman whispered a word, ¡°Sawn-glawnt.¡± The fire whuffed out. She rose and lifted her staff, a stout ebony length of wood scored with white marks along its length, and measured the staff against the stars above.


    Then she grunted, satisfied, gestured to him, and Zacharias had to unhobble the horse and mount quickly. She strode out of the stone circle, heading north, and as soon as they were clear of the stones, she broke into a steady lope which he had perforce to follow along at a jarring trot.


    In this way they ran through half the night. She never let up. He wanted finally to tell her that his rump was sore, or that the horse needed a rest, but in truth woman and horse seemed equally hardy creatures. He was the weak one, so he refused to complain. The moon crested above and began to sink westward. Light spilled along the landscape, a low rise and fall of grassland broken here and there by a stream or a copse of trees, roots sunk into a swale. Grass sighed in the middle night wind, a breath of summer¡¯s heat from the east. He could almost smell the campfires of the Pechanek tribe on that wind, the sting of fermented mare¡¯s milk, the damp weight of felt being prepared, the rich flavor of a greasy stew made of fat and sheep guts, the spice of kilkim tea that had been traded across the deep grass where griffins and Bwrmen roamed, all the way from the empire of the Katai peoples whose impenetrable borders it was said were guarded by rank upon rank of golden dragons.


    Suddenly, the woman slowed to a walk and approached a hollow of ragged trees, stopping just beyond their edge. ¡°We need a fire,¡± she said, then crouched to dig a fire circle.


    Zacharias groaned as he dismounted. His rump ached miserably. Just inside the ring of trees he paused to urinate. Ai, God, it still hurt to do so; perhaps it would always hurt. But he still had his tongue, and he meant to keep it. So much tree litter covered the ground that it took him little time to gather enough for a fire. He dumped it beside the pit she had dug into the earth, then turned to the horse. ¡°Can we bide here long enough to cook these grouse?¡± he asked.

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    ¡°Sawn-glawnt.¡± Her voice rang clear in the silence.


    He spun in time to see in the archway of fire the same man, now fully clothed and cast out on the ground in an attitude of sleep while the six Lions stood back in the gloom, standing watch around him. Then the archway unfolded and vanished into the ordinary lick of flames.


    His mistress stood, lifted her staff again, and again measured it against the stars. Her smile came brief, fierce, and sharp. ¡°Co-yoi-tohn,¡± she said, pointing northwest.


    ¡°You¡¯re looking for him,¡± said Zacharias suddenly.


    From behind, a panther coughed and then, more distantly, wings whirred.


    Zacharias yelped, drew his knife and peered eastward, but saw nothing¡ªno winged riders among the silver-painted grass. The woman cast a glance over her shoulder. She scented the wind, then shrugged her pack down from her shoulders, pulled out a hard, round cake, and sat to eat. She offered none to him. Zacharias sharpened a stick and spitted the grouse, careful to make sure the viscera he had cleaned out and stuffed back in did not fall out of the cavity. He was too hungry to wait long. He offered the first grouse to her; she sniffed, made a face that actually made him laugh out loud.


    Then he caught himself, cringing, but she took no offense. She tore off a strip of meat, fingered it, touched it to her lips, licked it, chewed a corner, grunted with surprise, and finished it off, then extended a hand imperiously for more. He was starving, and he ate every bit of his own grouse even though it made his belly ache. She went so far as to crack the bones and suck the marrow out.


    But when they were done, they did not rest. She rose, licked her fingers a final time, kicked dirt over the fire, and indicated the direction she had earlier pointed out.


    ¡°Co-yoi-tohn,¡± she repeated. ¡°What you would call, west of northwest.¡±


    ¡°But where are we going?¡± he asked. ¡°Who was the man we saw in the fire?¡±


    She only shrugged. Light tinged the east, the first herald of dawn. ¡°Now we begin the hunt.¡±


    3


    SURELY, wicked souls consigned to the pit could not have spent an evening¡¯s span of hours in more torment than did Alain at his wedding feast.


    The merriment he could stomach, barely, but the constant laughing toasts and crude jokes made him want to curl up and shrink away, and he was acutely conscious of Tallia beside him so still and withdrawn that he felt like a monster for wanting so badly what she clearly feared.


    But surely, when all was quiet and they were alone, he could persuade her to trust him. Surely, if he could gentle the ferocious Lavas hounds and win the trust of Liath, he could coax love from Tallia.


    She had on a blue linen gown fantastically embroidered with gems and the springing roes that signified her Varren ancestry. A slim silver coronet topped her brow, Henry¡¯s only concession to her royal kinship except of course for the delicate twist of gold braid that circled her neck. She wore her wheat-colored hair braided and pinned up at the back of her head; the style made her slim neck seem both more frail and more graceful. Wanting simply to touch it, to feel the pulse beating at her throat, made him ache in a peculiarly uncomfortable spot and even when he had to go pee he dared not stand to leave the table for fear of calling attention to himself in a most embarrassing way.


    He and Tallia shared a platter. He tried hard not to dip the elaborate sleeves of his tunic into the sauces that accompanied each course of the meal. Tallia did not eat more than a crust of bread and drink two sips of wine, but he was ravenous and though he feared it made him look gross and slovenly in her eyes, he could not help but eat heartily until a new toast would remind him¡ªlike a kick in the head from a panicked cow¡ªthat later this night he would at long last meet his heart¡¯s desire on the wedding bed, where nothing more could come between them. Then he would be so stricken with nausea that he was sorry he had eaten anything.


    Likewise, he gulped down wine one moment out of sheer nerves only to refuse the cup the next when with sick fear he recalled jokes he had heard at his Aunt Bel¡¯s table about bridegrooms who had drunk themselves into such a sodden fog that they could not perform their husbandly duty.


    Lavastine spoke little and then only to respond laconically to congratulations thrown his way. He needed to say nothing; this triumph had cost him plenty in the lives of his men, but he had gained a nobly-connected bride for his heir together with a seat, by virtue of her lineage, among the great princes of the realm.


    Certain distractions gnawed at the edges of the feast: Liath returned, and Prince Sanglant made such a spectacle of himself that Alain was briefly diverted from his fear that Tallia would faint dead away at the high table; the tumblers caught Tallia¡¯s attention with their tricks, and for a happy if short span of time he got her to smile at him as he admired¡ªnot her, never her, let him show no interest in her or she would retreat as totally in spirit as a turtle pulls into its shell¡ªbut rather the lively cartwheelers and rope-balancers, thin girls of about Tallia¡¯s age who had a kind of hard beauty to their faces composed of equal parts skill and coarse living.

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    The tumblers retreated. Wine flowed. Toasts came fast and furious and then¡ªAi, God!¡ªit was time.


    Servingwomen cleared off their table, he hoisted Tallia up and climbed on after, and eight young lords actually carried the table with the pair of them on it to the guesthouse set aside for their bridal night; crude, certainly, and boisterous as every person there laughed and called out suggestions, but Alain didn¡¯t mind the old tradition if only because Tallia had to hold on to him to keep from sliding off. She looked terrified, and actually shrank against him when he put an arm around her to pull her firmly to his side. She was as delicate as a sparrow.


    ¡°Here, now,¡± he whispered. ¡°I¡¯ll hold you safe.¡± She trustingly pressed her face against his shoulder.


    The crowd roared approvingly.


    Ai, Lady, Perhaps it was he who would faint. He was deliriously happy.


    They let the table down unsteadily by the threshold, and he helped Tallia down. She still clung to him, more afraid of the crowd than of him.


    ¡°Who witnesses?¡± cried out someone in the crowd.


    A hundred voices answered.


    The king himself came forward to speak the traditional words. ¡°Your consent having been obtained, let this marriage be fittingly consummated so that it can be legal and binding. Let there be an exchange of morning gifts at this door after dawn to signify that consummation.¡± He laughed, in a fine good humor after enough wine to soak a pig, a good meal, and the company of thrilling entertainers and all his good companions. ¡°May you have God¡¯s blessing this night,¡± he added, and as a mark of his extreme favor offered Alain his hand to kiss. Alain bent to one knee, took the king¡¯s callused hand, and kissed the knuckles. Tallia, sinking to both knees beside him, pressed her uncle¡¯s hand to her lips with a faint sigh. The lantern light made their shadows huge along the wall, like elongated giants.


    Lavastine stepped forward to open the door for them, an unexpected gesture more like that of servant than lord and father. Alain caught his hands as well and pressed them to his lips. Everything seemed so much larger and fuller this night: the noise of the crowd, the brush of wind on his face, his love for his father which suddenly seemed to swell until it encompassed the heavens, the joyous barking of the hounds, who had not been allowed to escort them for fear that they would frighten Tallia and become too unruly among such a large and boisterous crowd.


    Lavastine took him under the elbow and raised him up. This close, Alain saw a single tear snaking a path down the count¡¯s face. Lavastine paused, then took Alain¡¯s head gently between his hands and kissed him on the forehead.


    ¡°I beg you, Daughter,¡± he said, turning to Tallia. ¡°Make him happy.¡±


    Tallia seemed ready to swoon. Alain put an arm around her to support her and, with cheers and lewd suggestions ringing out behind them, helped her in over the threshold.


    Servants waited within. A good broad bed stood with its head against one wall of the simple chamber, made comfortable with a feather bed and quilt and a huge bedspread embroidered with the roes of Varre and the black hounds of Lavas. Obviously the bedspread had been in the making for some months. At the other wall stood a table and two handsome chairs. On the table sat a finely-glazed pitcher and a basin, for washing hands and face, and next to them a wooden bowl carved with turtledoves that held ripe berries, and also two gilded cups filled with a heady-scented wine. A wedding loaf, half-wrapped in a linen cloth, steamed in the close air of the little chamber, making his stomach growl. The shutters had been put up to afford privacy for this one night.


    The servants unlaced his sandals, untangled him from the complicated knotwork that belted his tunic, removed her blue linen gown, and quickly enough they both stood silent, she in a thin calf-length linen shift and he in knee-length shift and bare legs.


    ¡°Go on,¡± he said, giving each of the servants a few silver sceattas as they slipped out. ¡°May God bless you this night.¡±


    At last he was alone with Tallia.


    She sank down beside the bed in an attitude of prayer, lips pressed to her hands. He could not hear her words. She shivered as at a cold wind, and he saw briefly the shape of her body beneath her shift, the curve of a hip, the ridge of her collarbone, the slight fleeting swell of a breast.


    Ai, Lord! He spun to the table, poured out some cold water, and splashed it in his face. He had to lean his weight on the table while he fought to recover himself. Distantly he heard the hounds barking wildly. From the great yard he heard music, the nasal squeal of pipes and the thump of drums. No doubt the celebration would go on all night.


    At last he turned. She had not moved. On a whim, he poured more water into the basin and carried it and a soft cloth over to the bed. Setting it on the floor, he knelt beside her.

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    ¡°I beg you, my lady,¡± he said as softly as if he were coaxing a mouse out from its hiding place beneath St. Lavrentius¡¯ altar in the old church at Lavas Holding, ¡°give me leave to wash your face and hands.¡±


    She did not respond at first. She still seemed to be praying. But at last she turned those pale eyes on him as a prisoner pleads wordlessly for a stay of execution. Slowly, she uncurled her hands and held them out to him.


    He gasped. Down the center of each palm an ugly scar, still suppurating on her left hand, scored the flesh. Her skin was like a delicate parchment, thin and almost translucent but for those horrible gashes.


    He touched them gently with the damp cloth, letting the water soak in to soften the scabbing and the hard runnels of pus. ¡°These must be tended, Tallia! How did you come by these?¡±


    He looked up to see a faint blush stir on her pallid cheeks. Her lips parted; her eyes were very wide. He shut his eyes and swayed into her, caught the scent of her, the dry powder of wheat just before harvest and a trace of incense so fleeting that it was as if it retreated before him. Their lips did not touch.


    She whimpered, and he opened his eyes to discover that she had recoiled from him and now, with a hand caught in his grasp, had begun to cry.


    ¡°God¡¯s mercy! I beg you! Forgive me!¡± He was a monster to force himself on her in this way. But he could not bear simply to let go of her. Without looking her again in the face, he tended her hands, patiently wetting the scars and gently swabbing the pus from them. When he finished, he dropped the now-dirty cloth into the basin.


    She was still crying.


    ¡°It hurts you. I¡¯m sorry.¡± He could only stammer it. He could not bear to see her in pain.


    ¡°Nay, nay,¡± she whispered as he imagined a woman might who, having been violated, is compelled to grant forgiveness to the one who assaulted her. ¡°The pain is nothing. It is not for us to tend the wounds given to us by God¡¯s mercy.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    The blush still bled color into her cheeks. ¡°I cannot speak of it. It would be prideful if people were to think that God had favored me, for I am no more worthy than any other vessel.¡±


    ¡°Do you think this a sign from God¡ª?¡± He broke off as understanding flooded him. ¡°This is the mark of flaying, is it not?¡±


    ¡°Do you know of the blessed Daisan¡¯s sacrifice and redemption?¡± she asked eagerly, leaning toward him. ¡°But of course you must! You were privileged to walk beside Frater Agius, he who revealed the truth to me!¡± She was very close to him, her breath a sweet mist on his cheek. ¡°Do you believe in the Redemption?¡±


    He scarcely trusted himself to breathe. Her gaze on him was impassioned, her pulse under his fingers drumming like a racing stag, and he knew in his gut that she had unknowingly revealed to him the means to soften her heart.


    But it would be a lie.


    ¡°Nay,¡± he said softly. ¡°Frater Agius was a good man, but misguided. I don¡¯t believe in the sacrifice and redemption. I can¡¯t lie to you, Tallia.¡± Not even if it meant the chance she would open fully to him.


    She pulled her hands away from him and clasped them before her, resuming an attitude of prayer. ¡°I beg you, Lord Alain,¡± she said into her hands, her voice falling away until the mice scrabbling in the walls made a greater sound. ¡°I beg you, I have sworn myself to God¡¯s service as a pure vessel, a bride to the blessed Daisan, the Redeemer, who sits enthroned in Heaven beside his mother, She who is God and Mercy and Judgment, She who gave breath to the Holy Word. I beg you, do not pollute me here on earth for mere earthly gain.¡±


    ¡°But I love you, Tallia!¡± To have her so close! Her hands pressed against an embroidered golden stag, covering its antlers and head. A pair of slender hind legs, a gold rump and little tuft of a tail peeked out from under her right wrist. ¡°God made us to be husband and wife together, and to bring children into the world!¡±


    The sigh shuddered her whole body. She climbed onto the bed and lay on her back, utterly still, arms limp at her side. ¡°Then do what you must,¡± she murmured in the tone of a woman who has reached the station of her martyrdom.


    It was too much. He buried his face in his hands.


    After a long time, still hearing her ragged breathing in anticipation of the brute act she expected, he lifted his head. ¡°I won¡¯t touch you.¡± He was barely able to force the words out. ¡°Not until you get used to the idea of¡ª But I beg you, Tallia, try to think of me as your husband. For¡ªwe must in time¡ªthe county needs its heir, and it is our duty¡ªAi, God, I¡ªI¡ª¡± His voice failed. He wanted her so badly.

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    She heaved herself up and knelt on the bed, offering him her hands. ¡°I knew Frater Agius could not be wrong, to speak so well of you.¡±


    He dared not clasp her hands in his. It would only waken the feelings he struggled to control. ¡°Agius spoke well of me?¡± That Agius had thought of him at all astonished him.


    ¡°He praised you. So I always held his praise for you in my heart, he whom God allowed a martyr¡¯s death. Here.¡± She patted the bed beside her. ¡°Though I am the vessel through which God has sent a holy vision, do not be afraid to lie next to me. I know your heart is pure.¡±


    She arranged herself so modestly on her side of the bed that he knew what she meant him to endure, although perhaps it did not seem like endurance to her. But he must do what would please her if he meant to teach her to trust him¡ªand to love him. Wincing, he lay down stiffly on his back and closed his eyes.


    Her breathing slowed, gentled, and she slept. He ached too much to sleep, yet he dared not toss and turn. He dared not rise from the bed to pace, for fear of waking her. If he woke her, so close beside him, and she opened her eyes to see him there, limbs brushing, fingers caught in unwitting embrace, lips touching¡ª


    Madness lay that way, thinking on in this fashion. He did not know what to do, could not do anything but breathe, in and out, in and out. A plank creaked in the next chamber. Mice skittered in the walls, and he could almost taste the patience of a spider which, having spun out its final filament in one upper corner of the chamber, settled down to wait for its first victim. He had forgotten about the bread. Now, cooling, its mellow scent permeated the room and tickled his nose. Tallia shifted on the bed, murmuring in her sleep. Her fingers brushed his.


    He could not bear it.


    He slid off the bed and lay down on the floor. The hard wood gave him more welcome than the luxurious softness of the feather bed, and here, with his head pillowed on his arms, he finally fell into an exhausted sleep.


    He arrived back at Rikin fjord first of all the sons of Bloodheart¡ªthose who survived Gent¡ªand Rikin¡¯s OldMother welcomed him without surprise.


    ¡°Fifth Son of the Fifth Litter.¡± An OldMother never forgets the smell of each individual blind, seeking pupa that bursts from her nests. But she will stand aside once the battle is joined, as all OldMothers do. She does not care which of her sons leads Rikin¡¯s warband now that Bloodheart is dead, only that the strongest among them succeeds. Yet the WiseMothers know that the greatest strength lies in wisdom.


    Now he waits in the shield of the Lightfell Waterfall whose ice-cold water pours down the jagged cliff face into the deep blue waters of the fjord, where stillness triumphs over movement. He waits, watching six ships round the far point and close in on the beach. Beyond them in the deepest central waters a tail flips, slaps, vanishes. The merfolk are out; they have the magic to smell blood not yet spilled, and now they gather, waiting to feed. Eighteen ships have so far returned from Gent and the southlands. Tonight when the midnight sun sinks to her low ebb, OldMother will begin the dance.


    Has he built enough traps? Are his preparations adequate?


    That is the weakness of his brothers: They think strength and ferocity are everything. He knows better.


    He tucks the little wooden chest that he dug out from the base of the fall tight under his elbow and slips out from the ledge. Water sprays him and slides off his skin to fall onto moss and moist rock as he picks his way up the ladder rocks to the top of the cliff. There the priest waits, anxious. He wails out loud when he sees the box.


    ¡°I would have found it eventually,¡± Fifth Son says, but not because he wishes to gloat. He merely states the truth. Gloating is a waste of time. He does not open the little casket. He doesn¡¯t need to. They both know what lies inside, nestled in spells and downy feathers. ¡°You have grown lazy, old one. Your magic cannot triumph over cunning.¡±


    ¡°What do you want?¡± wails the priest. ¡°Do you want the power of illusion, that Bloodheart stole from me? Your heart hidden in the fjall to protect you from death in battle?¡±


    ¡°My heart will stay where it is. Nor do I want your illusions. I want immunity.¡±


    ¡°From death?¡± squeaks the priest.


    ¡°From your magic. And from the magic of the Soft Ones. For myself and the army I mean to build. Once I have that, I can do the rest.¡±


    ¡°Impossible!¡± says the priest emphatically.


    ¡°For you working alone, perhaps.¡± The priests keep their arcane studies a mystery even from the OldMothers, such as they can. ¡°But there are others like you. In concert, you can surely work a magic that has a practical use. And once I triumph, you can share in the booty.¡±

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    The priest laughs, a reedy sound like wind caught in stones. ¡°Why would you think I and those like me want booty? What good does it do us?¡±


    ¡°Then what do you and those like you want?¡±


    The old priest leans forward. Hands trembling, he reaches for the casket, but Fifth Son merely draws it away. He does not fear the priest; his magics seem mostly show, but he knows that a keener mind could wreak havoc with them.


    He does not trust magic.


    ¡°Freedom from the OldMothers,¡± whispers the priest hoarsely.


    Fifth Son lets out a breath, satisfied and surprised by this confession. The jewels drilled into his teeth glint in the sun as he bares his teeth. ¡°I can give you that. After you and those like you have given me what I need.¡±


    ¡°But how am I to convince them?¡±


    ¡°That problem is yours to solve.¡±


    He leaves the old priest behind then, and runs ahead. The priest will search, of course, and use his magic to call to his hidden heart. But there are other magics that know the power of concealment. Before he goes to the OldMother¡¯s hall to assemble with the others, he takes the chest to the homesteads of his human slaves and there he gives it into the care of Ursuline, she who has made herself OldMother among the Soft Ones. She has assured him that the circle-god has magic fully as strong as that of the RockChildren¡¯s priests¡ªthis will prove the test of her god¡¯s magic. And in any case, no RockChild will imagine that he might entrust a mere weak slave with something so powerful and precious.


    She is curious but not foolhardy. She takes the casket from him and without attempting to look inside¡ªfor he has told her what it contains¡ªconfines it within the blanket-covered box that she calls the holy Hearth of their god. Then she places withered herbs, a cracked jug, and a crude carved circle on the altar and sings a spell over it, what she calls a psalm.


    ¡°Our bargain?¡± she asks boldly. She is no longer afraid of him, because she has seen that when he kills, he kills quickly, and she does not fear death. He admires that in her. Like the WiseMothers, she understands inexorable fate.


    ¡°Our bargain,¡± he replies. She wants a token. The Soft Ones are ever like that, needing things to carry with them, objects to touch, in order to keep their word. He traces the wooden circle that hangs at his chest, his gift from Alain Henrisson. ¡°I swear on my bond with the one who gifted me with my freedom that I will give you what you ask for if you keep this chest safe until I need it. Do that, and I will keep my bargain¡ªas long as I become chieftain. Otherwise I will be dead, and you will be as well.¡±


    She chuckles, but he knows enough about the Soft Ones to see this laughter does not insult him but is instead a compliment. ¡°You are different than the others. God give Their blessing to the merciful and the just. They will guide you to success.¡±


    ¡°So you hope,¡± he agrees.


    He leaves her hovel, whistles in his dogs, and heads down the long valley to OldMother¡¯s compound. The path runs silent before and behind him; only a few slaves mewl and whine in their pens, dumb beasts shut away until the great events of the next hand of days have played out their course. His slaves, unconfined, are at their work¡ªor hidden in certain places according to his plan. He has entrusted them with a great deal, but they know that if he does not succeed, they will die at the hands of the victor.


    OldMother¡¯s drone rises up, a low rumble that lies as close along the steep valleys of Rikin as the blanket of spruce and pine and the mixed thickets of heather and fern; her song makes the lichen quicken and grow on rock faces, a pattern readable only by the SwiftDaughters. He strolls out onto the dancing ground of beaten earth alone but for his dogs.


    His brothers howl with derision when they see him.


    ¡°WeakBrother, do you mean to be the first one to bare your throat?¡±


    ¡°Coward! Where were you when the fighting came to Gent?¡±


    ¡°What treasures did you give to Bloodheart, tongueless one?¡±


    So they howl, taunting him. Their warbands cluster in packs, each pack striving to be the loudest¡ªas if loudness denotes strength. He has ordered his soldiers to remain silent, and they do so. He, too, remains silent as OldMother slides the knife of decision out of the pouch in her thigh and raises it to point at the fiery heart of the sun, now riding low along the southern range. With a slashing motion, she brings their noise, and her drone, to a sudden end.


    Six of Bloodheart¡¯s sons come forward into the center of the dancing ground, and when he steps forward last of all, there are seven. All the other RockChildren have chosen not to contend but instead to bare their throats to the victor. No doubt those who choose submission are showing wisdom in knowing just how weak they are.

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    The seven who will contend turn their backs to each other, and kneel. SwiftDaughters glide forward over the dirt and form the net of story, hands linked, gold and silver and copper and tin and iron hair gleaming as they begin to sway, humming.


    Silence except for that low humming permeates the clearing. Even the dogs do not bark. Distantly, he can almost hear the WiseMothers hearing that silence as speech, turning their attention to this mortal instant.


    Do they know how momentous this day will be? That one day the SwiftDaughters will weave it into their song of history? Or do they laugh at his ambition?


    Soon he will find out.


    The heavy tread of OldMother shudders the ground beneath his knees. She alone judges the worthiness of the contestants. The SwiftDaughters part to let her bulk through. He, with his brothers, bows his head.


    She makes a slow circle. Suddenly, there comes a grunt, the sharp copper taint of blood, and a thud as one of Bloodheart¡¯s sons topples over. His blood soaks into the soil of the dancing ground. Dogs growl, and a few bark and are hushed, or killed.


    He feels the knife of decision brush his head, his throat, and linger at the girdle of shimmering gold he wears at his hips: the girdle woven of the hair of a Hakonin SwiftDaughter.


    Then it moves away. Six sons remain.


    The SwiftDaughters rock back and forth, foot to foot, and begin the long chant, the history of Rikin¡¯s tribe. It will take three days to tell, and when they are done, only one of Bloodheart¡¯s sons will stand on the blood-soaked ground and claim victory.


    The circle parts. He leaps up, knowing better than to be caught by one of the other five and forced into a brute fight: they all outweigh him, they are bigger, brawnier, and stronger.


    But he has strength of a different kind.


    With the dogs and the warriors yammering and howling and barking behind, he races up toward the fjall where the first of his traps lies waiting.


    Alain woke to frenzied barking, the Eika dogs going crazy¡ª


    Only it wasn¡¯t the Eika dogs. Rage barked at his door, scratching insistently, and he heard the others howling and barking from Lavastine¡¯s chambers as if they had gone mad.


    He scrambled to throw his tunic on over his shift. Without bothering with hose he flung open the door. Tallia called out behind him, but he ran on, to Lavastine¡¯s chambers.


    The servants parted before him. They had not dared come too close. One had been bitten, and his arm wept blood. Alain waded into a seething whirlpool of hounds, all of them tearing around the chamber like a dog chasing its tail; only old Terror stood, legs up on the embrasure of the window, growling menacingly. Alain stuck his head out the window, but he saw only worried servingmen and a few curious onlookers who had paused to stare at the commotion. Wind stirred the flowering bushes just outside. A rodent¡ªor an unseen bird¡ªrustled in the leaves, and Fear, Sorrow, and Rage bolted out of the chamber and raced around the long building. People scattered from their path.


    ¡°Peace!¡± Alain cried, leaning out of the window, as they skittered to a halt on the other side. They sniffed in the bushes. ¡°Sit.¡± They sat, but they still growled softly at wind and leaves. Behind him, in the chamber, the barking settled and ceased, and the silence that weighed down made his ears ring. He turned to see Lavastine sitting on the bed, half clothed, examining Ardent¡¯s paw. She whimpered as he spread the pads and examined the flesh with a frown.


    Alain crossed to him at once and knelt beside him, then set a hand on Ardent¡¯s flank. Her nose was dry and her breathing came in a labored pant.


    ¡°Bitten,¡± said Lavastine, ¡°but I know not by what.¡±


    Alain sat on the bed to examine her paw. She nipped at him weakly when he probed at the flesh, but she trusted him too well to bite him. At first he felt only how hot her paw was; a swelling bubble grew between the pad of two toes. Finally he found the wound, two tiny red punctures.


    ¡°Was she bitten by a snake?¡±


    Lavastine rose and went to speak to a servant, who quickly left. ¡°We¡¯ll speak with the stablemaster.¡± The count paced over to the window and stood there, silent, with a hand resting on Terror¡¯s great head.


    Alain swung a leg over Ardent to pin her down, cut the pad of her paw with his knife, and sucked out what of the poison he could, if indeed she had been bitten by something poisonous, then spat it out onto the floor. Her blood had a sour, metallic taste, and it clotted at once, did not even bleed¡ªonly seeped from the cut. He offered her water in a basin, but she would not drink.


    Lavastine returned from the window and signed to a servant to help him dress. Another left to get Alain¡¯s clothing. Then Lavastine sat down beside Alain on the bed. He considered Ardent, stroked her head while she lay shuddering and panting hoarsely, not moving otherwise.

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    ¡°It is time we returned to Lavas,¡± he said, ¡°since we have what we came for. I will ask my cleric to name a day propitious for a long journey, and on that day we will take our leave of the king and ride west.¡±


    ¡°Father.¡± Alain stuttered to a halt. His blush certainly had as much heat as the infection on poor Ardent¡¯s paw. He glanced up to see the servants busy at their tasks, pouring water to wash in, sweeping the steps outside. ¡°I didn¡¯t¡ªwe didn¡¯t¡ª¡± He could not continue, and yet he could not lie to his father.


    Lavastine raised a pale eyebrow. ¡°She has just come from the convent. She might still feel some hesitation.¡± Terror padded over from the window and sat stiffly beside the count, on guard. ¡°Still,¡± he continued, ¡°the practical thing for a woman is to get herself with child as quickly as possible so that she has an heir.¡±


    Even thinking of Tallia lying pale and fragile on the bed beside him made Alain flush, and he felt all over again the ache of last night. ¡°But it would be¡ª¡± He dropped his voice to a whisper because he could not bear for anyone else, even the servants, to hear. ¡°¡ªa lie to exchange morning gifts.¡±


    Lavastine massaged Ardent¡¯s foot. He wore his most intent look as he focused on the hound¡¯s paw. ¡°Perhaps. But I lied to you about my intentions, at the battle at Gent. I had to, knowing you could see the Eika prince in your dreams and that he could, perhaps, see yours. Others envy us what we have gained here. If they believe that the marriage has gone unconsummated, some may even begin to whisper that it is invalid, even though a biscop blessed your union and the king himself gave his consent. We cannot afford to give them a weapon to strike against us.¡± All but one of the servingmen had retreated from the chamber, responsive as always to Lavastine¡¯s moods. He glanced at the one man remaining, gave a brief nod as at a job well done, and turned to look directly at Alain. ¡°Therefore, exchange morning gifts. She is a woman, and even if she is timid now, women above all things want heirs for their lands and titles.¡±


    Alain wasn¡¯t so sure, but he nodded obediently, and as if his nod had summoned her, there came a swell of voices outside the door, and then Tallia entered the chamber, stopped short, and cowered back against the wall away from the hounds.


    Lavastine stood but not before glancing at Alain as if to say: ¡°And so here she is.¡±


    Alain¡¯s servingman came in behind her, and Tallia covered her eyes with a corner of her shawl as Alain, settling Ardent comfortably on the bed, stood to dress. When he was decently clothed, he coaxed her over to sit on the bed beside Ardent. Once she saw that the huge hound was too weak to snap at her, she gingerly sat down, clinging to Alain¡¯s hand.


    She trusted him. That much he had won from her.


    Lavastine smiled slightly and, with hands clasped behind his back, nodded to his servants to fetch the morning gift which Alain would present to his bride. Alain waited nervously, half on fire from the innocent clasp of Tallia¡¯s hand in his, half terrified that she would find inappropriate the gift he had himself commissioned. It was not his place as the one of lesser rank to attempt to outdo her gift to him. He could not in any case, since Henry had already settled rich estates on Lavas as part of the dower. But neither could the heir to the count of Lavas permit himself to appear like a pauper before the assembled nobles of the king¡¯s progress.


    Many people had gathered outside to witness the morning gifts. When the king arrived, Alain coaxed Tallia to her feet, and they went outside to greet him.


    What raucous and lewd comments greeted their appearance Alain tried not to hear. Tallia had pulled her shawl almost over her face, and she huddled against him, which only made people laugh and call out the louder, seeing it as a sign of the very transaction that had not taken place last night.


    Henry was generous with his disgraced sister Sabella¡¯s lands: together with the estates marked as part of Tallia¡¯s dowry yesterday, the full extent of the gift in lands made as the marriage settlement doubled the size of the Lavas Holdings. Lavastine had a thin smile on his face, the closest he came to outright glee. Henry gestured, and his stewards brought two chests forward: silks, a magnificent fur-lined cape, silver plate and gold cups, handsome vestments for the Lavas clergy, rich clothing for Tallia and Alain, and brass dog collars embossed with springing roes and sportive hounds.


    The crowd murmured in appreciation for Henry¡¯s generosity.


    Lavastine had known better than to attempt to outdo a king. His own servants brought forward chests filled with good cloth suitable for a noblewoman of royal lineage to clothe her servants in, silver-and-gold vessels for her to present to her clerics, and handsomely carved small chests that contained enough coins to grace an army of beggars. Last, Alain himself gave her the tiny ivory reliquary inlaid with jewels that he had commissioned. Unlocked by a delicate silver key, it contained dust from the shawl worn by the holy discipla, St. Johanna the Doubter, together with a perfect jeweled replica of a rose.

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    Tallia wept over the holy relic and kissed the petals of the jeweled rose. She gave the reliquary into the keeping of Hathumod, the young woman who had come with her from Quedlinhame. Lavastine gave Alain an approving nod, but her reaction troubled Alain. He had meant the jeweled rose to represent the Rose of Healing¡ªthe healing grace granted every soul by God¡¯s mercy¡ªbut now he feared she saw it only as the symbol of her heretical belief, the rose that bloomed out of the blood of the blessed Daisan.


    But when she thanked him so earnestly and with her eyes so untroubled by any memory of their awkward night together, hope surged again in his heart¡ªand not least an uncomfortable tingling elsewhere. He need only be patient.


    The crowd began to disperse. The king¡¯s steward announced that Henry would hold audience in the great open yard after the service of Terce. Lavastine ducked inside his chamber, and quickly Alain followed him with Tallia drawn along behind as if she wanted only to stay beside him¡ªor did not know where else to go.


    Ardent still lay on the bed, whimpering softly. Alain went over to soothe her. Under his hands, she quieted. Lavastine had drawn Tallia over to the window and was laboriously attempting to converse with her. Alain caught the eye of a steward.


    ¡°Christof, an Eagle arrived at the palace last night, one called Liathano. Send for her to attend me.¡±


    The steward concealed his astonishment poorly. He was a jovial fellow, and too late Alain recalled that he was also a terrible gossip. ¡°I know the one you speak of, my lord,¡± he replied obediently, but not without a glance at Count Lavastine. He went out.


    When he returned, he brought Liath with him. As soon as she crossed the threshold, the hounds began to whimper and growl, scrambling back to cluster around Lavastine like terrified pups. Ardent tried to shove her head under Alain¡¯s thigh.


    ¡°Peace!¡± said Lavastine sternly. They hunkered down nervously at his feet. ¡°Alain?¡±


    ¡°Your Highness,¡± said Liath, seeing Tallia. Although she was obviously surprised, she did not stumble over the formalities. ¡°My lord count. Lord Alain, I have come as you requested.¡±


    ¡°Alain?¡± repeated Lavastine. He stood with one hand on Terror¡¯s head, but his intent gaze never left Liath. ¡°What means this?¡±


    Alain could not rise because of Ardent, and in any case he was lord and she a mere Eagle, not a person he could meet publicly on an equal standing whatever private confidences they had once shared. For an instant he didn¡¯t know how to answer because he saw Tallia¡¯s expression: Was Tallia jealous? Or did he only hope she would be?


    ¡°I am reminded of this Eagle¡¯s service to us at Gent,¡± he said finally, and firmly, because everyone was watching him expectantly, ¡°and I am minded to gift her with some token as a reward for her efforts there.¡±


    Lavastine took a step forward and stopped short as Terror nipped at him, took his master¡¯s hand in that great jaw, and growled softly while trying to tug Lavastine back. The count shook his hand free impatiently. ¡°Resolve,¡± he muttered under his breath, so softly that maybe only Alain heard him, and he continued to stare at Liath as a man stares at that woman with whom he discovers some deep kinship of blood, or spirit.


    ¡°Resuelto,¡± he repeated, looking now at his servants.


    ¡°The gray gelding?¡± they repeated, dumbfounded that a lord would blithely give away his second best warhorse to a common Eagle.


    ¡°And the saddle and bridle from Asselda,¡± he added. ¡°Rope. And saddlebags. And the good leather belt crafted by Master Hosel, the one inscribed with salamanders so that as the Holy Verses say, ¡®if you walk through fire, the flame shall not consume you.¡¯¡±


    ¡°I would give her a token as well,¡± said Alain hastily to divert attention from the count, who seemed inclined to arm her as he would a relative. ¡°A quiver of arrows and¡ª¡± What he wanted to say to her, to ask, he could not communicate in front of such an audience. His gaze lit on one of his rings, a gold band set with a brilliantly blue stone. He pulled it off. ¡°Let this ring of lapis lazuli protect you from evil,¡± he said, giving it to her. ¡°Know that you can find refuge here if you need it.¡±


    ¡°I thank you, my lord count. Lord Alain.¡± But her gaze was more eloquent. He read gratitude in her expression, and yet he saw that she was still frightened, apprehensive of some event she feared would come to pass. Was Lord Hugh still stalking her? He had no way of asking, and even as he paused, a steward came in from outside.


    ¡°I beg your pardon, my lord count,¡± the man said to Lavastine. ¡°An Eagle stands outside with an urgent summons for her comrade¡ªfrom the king.¡±

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    One look she gave to Alain, nothing more. Then she was gone. As she left the chamber, the hounds rose unsteadily and shook themselves.


    ¡°My lord count, I have come as you requested.¡± The king¡¯s stablemaster appeared at the threshold and Lavastine gave him permission to enter, although the man glanced nervously at the hounds. Still subdued, they growled softly and let him be.


    The stablemaster examined Ardent, stroked his beard and looked puzzled. Neither adders nor any poisonous snakes were commonly found in this district, he explained, but he sent men at once to beat the bushes around the complex and to warn the king.


    ¡°Come, Son.¡± Lavastine gave Ardent a pat on the head and rose to collect gloves and spear. ¡°We must attend the king.¡± Alain hesitated. ¡°I will do what I can to help the girl,¡± added Lavastine softly.


    ¡°Then I pray you, Father, let me stay with Ardent.¡±


    Lavastine glanced at Tallia, who still stood by the window, nodded curtly, and left.


    ¡°She¡¯s a strange-looking woman,¡± said Tallia. ¡°I remember seeing her before, when we rode to Quedlinhame.¡±


    ¡°She fought with us at Gent.¡±


    ¡°Then she was given a handsome reward by you and your father. People will speak of your generosity, and you will be known as a Godly man.¡±


    So was he reproved however gently for that brief desire that envy would prick her until she bled and, bleeding from jealousy, fell into his arms. He would have to win her over in a nobler manner than this. Ardent burrowed her head more deeply into Alain¡¯s lap and whimpered, and he stroked her ears and scratched her head, giving her such comfort as he could, knowing that his presence itself was comfort to her.


    ¡°Poor suffering soul,¡± murmured Tallia. ¡°I will pray to God for healing.¡± She knelt, bent her head, and lapsed at once into a melisma of prayer.


    Several young nobles stuck their heads inside the chamber to check on the progress of the hound. They all had their own dearly-loved hounds, and Alain could not help but be touched by their concern. But though they urged Alain to join them in their hunt for snakes, he would not. He could not bear to leave Ardent¡¯s side all through that long, hazy morning as she struggled to breathe and by degrees her leg turned, seemingly, into stone.


    4


    SANGLANT woke stiff and sore somewhat after dawn. After twenty-nine days sleeping in the second finest bed on the king¡¯s progress, his limbs had grown used to comfort. Now, rising from the ground, he ached everywhere, but he didn¡¯t mind it. The pain of freedom is never as harsh as that of slavery.


    ¡°My lord prince!¡± said one of the Lions in an urgent whisper.


    He heard them coming down the narrow footpath that led from the bluff¡¯s height far above to the river¡¯s shore below: the king and a small entourage.


    ¡°Prince Sanglant.¡± The Lion had a shock of red hair and part of one ear missing, the lobe sliced cleanly off and healed into a white dimple. ¡°If we may¡ªyour clothing¡ª¡±


    Only now did he glance at himself to see in what disarray he stood; tunic skewed around his body and stained with dirt; sandals scuffed; leggings half unwound on his right calf; his belt lying like a sleeping snake, all curves and loops, on the ground by his feet. Two of the Lions ventured forward¡ªhe smelled their caution¡ªand tidied him up so that by the time his father appeared, skirting an old fall of rocks that had half obliterated the last bend in the footpath, he looked presentable.


    Henry shaded his eyes against the rising sun. ¡°Sanglant.¡± Sanglant knelt obediently. Henry¡¯s hand, coming to rest on his hair, had uncomfortable weight. ¡°You did not come in last night.¡±


    ¡°I slept outside.¡±


    Henry removed his hand. Sanglant looked up in time to see the king gesture to the others and, together, entourage and Lions moved away until they waited out of earshot. ¡°We must talk, Son, before I hold my morning¡¯s audience. Walk with me.¡±


    Sanglant rose. Though he was half a head taller than the king, he never felt he dwarfed him; Henry used his power too well.


    ¡°You are restless,¡± observed Henry as they strolled down along the river, away from his entourage, which consisted of the six Lions who had guarded Sanglant through the night, four servingmen, Margrave Villam, and Sister Rosvita. ¡°You heard the news brought last night, that both regnants in Aosta are dead. There is a single heir, the Princess Adelheid.¡±


    Sanglant shrugged. He had not heard the news; once Liath had entered the hall, everything else had become a roar of meaningless chatter. She had a distinct way of walking, that of a person who has covered many leagues on her feet and found no weariness from walking as would a man or woman used to riding. The quiver rode easily on her back; she was used to its weight, and confident with it. Her braid had a distracting habit of swaying as she walked, drawing the eye down her back to the swell of her hips. She had looked at him over her shoulder. And then, when he had followed her outside, she had kissed him despite his confused confession that would have made another woman scorn him. Surely that kiss¡ªhowever greatly it had disturbed him bodily¡ªrevealed the wish of her heart.

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    ¡°Sanglant! You are not listening.¡±


    It took him a moment to remember where he was. He bent, scooped up a long branch, and commenced snapping it in half, and the halves in half again. It was the only way he could keep his attention from wandering back to her.


    ¡°You will lead an army to Aosta. There, you will place Lady Adelheid on the queen regnant¡¯s throne, and you will marry her. Once that is accomplished, and with my power behind you, the Aostan princes will not contest your election as king regnant. You will reign beside Adelheid, as her equal. No one can doubt your worthiness for the Aostan throne, since it is as often claimed by force as by inheritance. That is what the Aostan princes prefer, to keep their regnants weak and dependent on their power as queenmakers. Once you have established yourself in Aosta, with a royal wife and a child to prove your fertility, then it is only a small step for me to name you as my heir here in Wendar and Varre as well. Who will contest us then, if the prize is the restoration of the Holy Dariyan Empire? The Empire lies within our grasp at last. With you on the Aostan throne, I can march south and have myself crowned as emperor and you as my successor and heir.¡±


    The branch lay in pieces at his feet. An osprey soared above, heading upriver. The river flowed steadily along behind him; he could almost hear each least grain of dirt being spun off from the shoreline and washed away downstream, caught up in an irresistible current that would drag it all the way to the sea. He was suddenly tired. Henry, like the river, was an unstoppable force.


    ¡°Liath,¡± he whispered. It was the only word he knew how to say.


    Henry grunted in the way of a man prepared for the blow that strikes him. ¡°As Villam warned me,¡± he muttered. ¡°I swear that Wolfhere sent her to plague me and ruin you.¡±


    Henry regarded the river with a frown, and Sanglant watched him, caught up without meaning to be in that strong attraction that a regnant must necessarily wind around himself, like a cloak. A regnant is no regnant without it. Henry had a strong profile, most often stern, with the dignity appropriate to the responsibility God had given him. He had as much silver as brown in his hair now, and a neat beard laced with white. Sanglant touched his own¡ªbeardless¡ªchin, but the movement brought Henry¡¯s attention back to him.


    ¡°Very well.¡± Henry could not conceal his annoyance, but he attempted to. ¡°Take her as a concubine, if you must. You won¡¯t be the first man¡ªor woman¡ªto keep a concubine. The Emperor Taillefer was known to keep concubines while between wives. But¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to marry Princess Adelheid. I intend to marry Liath.¡±


    Henry laughed as if Sanglant had made a jest. ¡°A common-born woman?¡±


    ¡°Her father¡¯s kin have estates at Bodfeld.¡±


    ¡°Bodfeld?¡± Henry had a capacious memory; he exercised it now. ¡°The lady of Bodfeld sends only twenty milites when called to service. Such a family can scarcely expect a match with a man of your position, and it isn¡¯t clear if the girl is of legitimate birth.¡±


    ¡°All the better,¡± said Sanglant sarcastically, ¡°for one such as me. Why do you refuse to understand? I don¡¯t want to be king with princes all biting at my heels and waiting for me to go down so they can rip out my throat. I endured that for a year. I want a grant of land, Liath as my wife, and peace.¡±


    ¡°Peace! What man or woman of royal blood can expect peace with the Eika plaguing our northern shores and Quman raids in the east? Since when have the princes of the realm allowed us to luxuriate in peace? Even the lowliest lady with her small estate and dozen servants must contend against bandits and the depredations of her ambitious neighbors. If we live our lives according to the teaching of the blessed Daisan, then we can expect peace when our souls ascend to the Chamber of Light. Not before.¡±


    Henry paced to the river¡¯s edge, where water swirled over a nest of rocks the size of eggs. Picking one up, he flung it with some impatience into the center of the current. It vanished into the slate-gray waters with a plop. He heaved a sigh; from this angle Sanglant could not see his face, only the tense set of his shoulders. He wore this morning a linen tunic of intense blue, its neck and sleeves and hem embroidered with gold lions curling around eight-pointed purple starbursts, the sigil in needlework of his wedding to quiet, cunning, luxury-loving Sophia, dead these three years.


    ¡°You have not yet recovered from your captivity,¡± the king said finally, addressing the streaming waters. ¡°When you do, you will regret these rash words and see the wisdom of my plan. Sapientia is brave and willing, but she was not gifted by God with the mantle of queenship. Theophanu¡ªperhaps¡ªif she lives¡ª¡± Here he faltered, one hand clenching. ¡°She has a cool nature, not one to inspire soldiers to follow her into the thick of battle. And Ekkehard¡ª¡± The shake of his shoulders was dismissive. ¡°Too young, untried, and foolish. He belongs in the church so that he can sing praises to God with that beautiful voice. That leaves you.¡± Now he turned. ¡°You wear the mantle, Sanglant. You have always worn it. They follow you into battle. They trust and admire you. You must be king after me.¡±

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    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be king. Or heir. Or emperor. Is there some other way to state it so you understand?¡±


    The red tinge to Henry¡¯s cheeks betrayed that one of his famous rages was descending, but Sanglant surveyed the king dispassionately. Rage never frightened him in others, only in himself. Ai, Lady, but the revelation hit hard enough: Henry could do nothing to harm him, nothing worse than what Bloodheart had already done. By making Sanglant his prisoner, Bloodheart had freed him from the chains that bound him to his father¡¯s will.


    ¡°You will do as I tell you!¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    Now, at last, Henry looked surprised¡ªso surprised, indeed, that for an instant he forgot to be furious. For an instant. A moment later the mask of stone crashed down, freezing his face, and the father intent on his son¡¯s rising fortune vanished to be replaced by the visage of the king whose subjects have unexpectedly cried rebellion. ¡°If I disinherit you, you will have nothing, not even the sword you wear. Not even a horse to ride. Not even the clothes on your back.¡±


    ¡°Did I have any of those things before? The only thing a man can truly claim as his own is the inheritance he receives from his mother.¡±


    ¡°She abandoned you.¡± Henry touched his own chest at the heart. Sanglant knew what lay there, tucked away between tunic and breast: a yellowing scrap of bloodied cloth, the only earthly remains of his mother, who had left him, and Henry, and human lands long ago. ¡°She abandoned you with nothing.¡±


    ¡°Except her curse upon me,¡± hissed Sanglant.


    ¡°She was not meant to live upon this earth,¡± said Henry, voice ragged with old grief.


    They looked at each other, then: the two who had been left behind. Sanglant sank down abruptly to his knees before his father, and Henry came forward to rest a hand¡ªthat careless, most affectionate gesture¡ªon his son¡¯s black hair.


    ¡°Ai, Lady,¡± Sanglant whispered, ¡°I¡¯m tired of fighting. I just want to rest.¡±


    Henry said nothing for a while, but his hand stroked Sanglant¡¯s hair gently. Wind made ripples in the water, tiny scalloped waves that shivered in the sunlight and vanished. Henry¡¯s entourage stood out of human earshot, but in the eddy of silence that lapped around the king¡¯s affection and forgiveness, Sanglant could hear them speaking to each other as they watched the scene.


    ¡°I still think it unwise.¡± That was Sister Rosvita.


    ¡°Perhaps.¡± That was Villam. ¡°But I think it wise to strike for Aosta when they are weakest, and there is no question but that the prince can lead such a campaign. What comes of it in the end once Aosta is in our hands and Henry crowned emperor ¡­ well, we cannot see into the future, so we must struggle forward blindly. We must not undercut the support the other princes and nobles will give Sanglant while they do not yet know Henry¡¯s full intentions.¡±


    ¡°Did you hear about the adder?¡± This voice belonged to one of Henry¡¯s stewards who stood somewhat away from Villam and Rosvita; Sanglant recognized the voice but not the name.


    ¡°Nay. An adder? Here?¡± That was a Lion, the red-haired one.


    ¡°Ach, yes. Bit one of Count Lavastine¡¯s hounds and then vanished. Stablemaster sent men to beat the bushes all round and smoke out any snake holes, but the local folk say they¡¯ve not seen vipers ¡¯round here for years and years. Still. It weren¡¯t no rat that bit that hound.¡±


    A thrill of alarm stung him. He staggered up to his feet, surprising his father. ¡°What is this talk of an adder and Lavastine¡¯s hounds?¡±


    Henry recovered his composure quickly, mingled affection, grief, and surprise smoothing back into the mask of stone, an expression that gave away nothing of his inner thoughts: Henry at his most cunning. ¡°Indeed.¡± He related the story, what he knew of it. ¡°It happened at dawn. Men have beaten through the palace grounds. But none have scoured these slopes or this land here along the river.¡± He sighed expansively. ¡°Nay, what use? The creature has long since escaped into earth or brush.¡±


    ¡°Not if I hunt it.¡± Sanglant flung back his head and took a draught of air, but he smelled nothing out of the ordinary: sweattinged men, an aftertaste of frankincense from the dawn service, a dead fish, the evanescent perfume of lavender and comfrey growing along the far bank, manure and urine from the distant stables, the dense, faint underlay of women¡¯s holy bleeding, cook fires from the palace and the searing flesh of pork.


    ¡°Go, then,¡± said the king quickly. ¡°Send those Lions back, for they¡¯ve been at their watch all night, and they¡¯ll send others to take their place. Where will you start?¡±

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    ¡°Here at the base of the bluff. It may have come down through the brush.¡±


    ¡°Take care you¡¯re not bitten, Son.¡±


    ¡°And if I am?¡± he retorted bitterly. ¡°Female and male God created them. It can¡¯t kill me.¡±


    ¡°Search with my blessing, then.¡±


    But Sanglant had already begun the hunt, and gave no further thought to his father¡¯s swift retreat.


    5


    HANNA waited for Liath outside Count Lavastine¡¯s chamber. Liath was still stunned from the rain of gifts that had been showered on her inside. Ai, God, had Count Lavastine really given her a horse? She clutched Alain¡¯s ring in her hand and stared at Hanna, speechless.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been called before the king.¡± Hanna kissed her, they embraced, and then Hanna pushed back to survey Liath critically. ¡°Everything looks in place.¡±


    ¡°Called before the king?¡±


    ¡°Liath!¡± Hanna¡¯s tone made her jump. ¡°Run if you want, or face it with courage. How you present yourself to the king will make a difference in whether he rules in your favor¡ªor in Father Hugh¡¯s.¡±


    It was good advice, of course, but Liath had a claw stuck in her throat and could not get any words out.


    As they walked to the great yard, they passed several Lions loitering as if waiting for her, among them her acquaintance Thiadbold. He winked at her and said, ¡°You know where we are if you¡¯ve need of aught, friend.¡±


    Did everyone know or suspect? But it took far more caution than she and Sanglant had shown to keep something secret on the king¡¯s progress. That Hugh had hidden his interest in her, until now, only betrayed how cunning he was.


    ¡°You¡¯ve gained their regard,¡± observed Hanna. ¡°But then, you saved the lives of Lions at Augensburg.¡±


    Yet killed more than she had saved.


    It was midmorning, just after Terce. The king held court out in the yard, his throne set up in the shadow of the great hall. From the kennels she heard barking as huntsmen readied hounds. Hugh and Wolfhere knelt in front of the king, Hugh somewhat closer to Henry than was Wolfhere, as befit his higher rank. Wolfhere marked her briefly; his composure irritated her. Hugh did not look toward her as Hanna walked forward beside her and then peeled away to go stand in attendance on Princess Sapientia, but Henry examined her keenly as she knelt. She was careful to keep Wolfhere between her and Hugh. Nobles surrounded Henry¡¯s seat, spread out like wings arching away from his chair: Sapientia, Villam, Judith, Sister Rosvita, and others, faceless to her dizzied sight. The eager crowd stirred like a nest of hornets swept by a gust of smoke.


    She did not see Sanglant.


    Trembling, she slipped Alain¡¯s ring onto a finger.


    ¡°So this is the Eagle who has caused so much agitation in my court. You are called Liathano. An Arethousan name.¡± Henry had a leash in one hand, studded with brass fittings, and he played with it as he studied her. ¡°What am I to do with you?¡±


    ¡°I beg you, Your Majesty,¡± said Hugh. ¡°This woman is my slave. She came to me because her father died leaving a debt, which I purchased. As his sole heir, she inherited the debt and could not pay it¡ª¡±


    ¡°I could have paid it if you¡¯d not stolen Da¡¯s books¡ª!¡±


    ¡°Quiet,¡± said the king without raising his voice. ¡°Go on, Father Hugh.¡±


    She clenched her hands but could do nothing.


    Hugh inclined his head graciously. ¡°As his sole heir, she inherited the debt, which she could not pay, and because I paid the debt, she came legally into my keeping. I knew very well that a young woman left alone without kin to watch over her would be in danger, especially in the north. I did what I could to make her safe.¡±


    ¡°What are these books she speaks of?¡± asked Henry.


    Hugh shrugged. ¡°All acknowledge the right of the church to confiscate books that may prove dangerous.¡± Unexpectedly, he sought approval from a new quarter. ¡°Is that not so, Sister Rosvita? It was first stated at the Council of Orialle, was it not?¡±


    The cleric nodded, but she was frowning. ¡°This right the church has kept in its own hands.¡±


    ¡°And in my capacity as an ordained frater, a servant of God, I judged these works dangerous to any not educated in their use. I acted as I thought proper. In any case, it is not yet clear to me that the books rightfully belonged to her father at all.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not true¡ª!¡±


    ¡°I have not given you leave to speak,¡± said Henry without looking at her. ¡°But her charge of theft is a serious one, Father Hugh.¡±

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    He sighed, with a tiny, sad frown. ¡°It is indeed a serious charge, Your Majesty. But there remains another charge as serious: that I purchased her father¡¯s debt price, and thus her bond of slavery, illegally. I am sworn to the church. It is slander to suggest that I dealt dishonestly or unfairly in such a transaction.¡± For an instant, she heard real anger in his voice, honor stung by false accusation. He did not look at her. She looked away from him quickly and became aware all at once that many people in the crowd were watching her watching him. What had her face revealed? More than his did, surely. He went on. ¡°As for the books, to whom could she have expected to sell books? And for what price? To a freeholder to burn in the hearth for heat over the winter? I must point out that after the sale of his remaining belongings, her father still left debts totaling fully two nomias¡ª¡±


    Murmurs arose in the crowd. People pointed. Whispers buzzed.


    ¡°Two nomias! For a slave! That¡¯s as much as for a fine stallion!¡±


    To one side, she glimpsed Count Lavastine slipping into place among the crowd of nobles.


    ¡°In truth, Your Majesty,¡± Hugh went on smoothly, ¡°she could not have met the debt price, books or no books, no matter what she believes¡ªor wishes to believe. I kept her safe, clothed, fed, and housed. And I was repaid in this manner: Your Eagle, Wolfhere, stole her from me without my consent¡ªand, evidently, without yours.¡±


    ¡°I pray you, Your Majesty!¡± The words burst out of Wolfhere. ¡°May I speak?¡±


    The king considered for a long time. Finally, he lifted a hand in consent.


    Wolfhere spoke crisply. ¡°Liath came with me freely. I paid the full debt price that Father Hugh had taken on himself: two nomias. The transaction was witnessed by Marshal Liudolf of Heart¡¯s Rest, and sealed with your own mark¡ªthe mark of the Eagles which you grant to each of us who serves the crown of Wendar and Varre. It is well known that your servants hold the right to take what they need when they need it. I had need of more Eagles, in such troubled times. Liath and Hanna served me well, and indeed I lost two Eagles at Gent, one of them my own discipla. I did not purchase Liath¡¯s freedom trivially, but out of necessity. She has served you well, Your Majesty. I beg you to take her service into account.¡±


    ¡°But she was still taken without my consent,¡± said Hugh quietly. ¡°I did not take the nomias that were offered me. I did not agree to the transaction.¡±


    Henry shifted in his chair. ¡°Do you begrudge me a gift as insignificant as this girl?¡±


    ¡°Not at all, Your Majesty,¡± he replied without missing a beat. His golden-blond hair gleamed in the sun, as did he. ¡°But I dislike seeing such disgrace brought onto your Eagles, for isn¡¯t it true that Eagles must be free men and women to ride in your service?¡±


    ¡°Freeborn men and women,¡± said Wolfhere quickly. ¡°It was no fault of Liath¡¯s that her father died in debt. But she is freeborn.¡±


    ¡°How do we know that?¡± asked Hugh.


    ¡°I will swear it on the Holy Verses!¡± cried Liath fiercely. ¡°Both my mother and father were freeborn¡ª¡±


    ¡°Peace,¡± said the king softly, and she winced, cursed herself. Could she never just keep quiet? This was not the way to win the king¡¯s favor. He regarded Hugh and Wolfhere with a frown, but she could not guess at his thoughts. Finally, he gestured toward Sister Rosvita. ¡°You wish to speak, Sister?¡±


    ¡°Only in this way, Your Majesty. I advise you to send this young woman to the convent of St. Valeria.¡±


    That surprised him. ¡°I begin to think there is more here than meets the eye. St. Valeria! Why should I send her to St. Valeria? To see why Theophanu is delayed for so long there?¡±


    ¡°A good enough reason, Your Majesty. One that will serve the purpose.¡±


    ¡°You speak in riddles, my good counselor. Is there more you would say?¡±


    Rosvita hesitated. Liath¡¯s heart beat so hard she thought everyone around her could hear its hammering. Rosvita knew what was written in The Book of Secrets; her testimony alone could condemn Liath.


    ¡°Nay, Your Majesty,¡± she said at last, and reluctantly. ¡°There is nothing more I would say in such an assembly.¡±


    Whispers threaded through the crowd like a weaving gone awry. Hugh¡¯s eyes narrowed as he gazed at the cleric; then he recalled himself and bowed his head modestly. He did it so well. Never a hair out of place, never a smile too many or a frown at the wrong time.


    Henry chuckled, but more in exasperation than good cheer. He gestured expansively. ¡°Are there others who wish to speak?¡± he demanded.

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    That brought silence. No one was foolish¡ªor brave¡ªenough to speak into such silence.


    Until Count Lavastine stepped forward, unruffled although he immediately became the center of attention. ¡°I see that this Eagle has caused a great deal of disturbance on your progress, Your Majesty. But she served me well at Gent. If you wish to be rid of her, I will take her into my retinue.¡±


    ¡°Would you, indeed?¡± The king quirked an eyebrow, curious, not entirely pleased. ¡°So many show such an interest in a simple Eagle,¡± he mused. His tone made her nervous, and as if her fear attracted him, he looked right at her, the gaze of lightning, blazing, bright, and overwhelming. ¡°Have you anything to say to this, Eagle?¡±


    She blurted it out without thinking. ¡°Where is Sanglant?¡±


    ¡°Sanglant is not here, because I have ordered it so.¡± There was nothing more to be said, no petition, no recourse. She bent her head in submission. What else could she do? ¡°Wolfhere leaves today to ride south to Aosta. You have served me well, Liathano.¡±


    To hear her name pronounced so firmly in his resonant baritone made her shiver; Da would have said: ¡°Beware the notice of those who can seal your death warrant; if they don¡¯t know you exist, then they¡¯ll likely ignore you.¡± But the king knew she existed. He knew her name, and names are power. She waited, toying with Alain¡¯s ring, praying that it might miraculously protect her. What else could she do?


    ¡°You have served me well,¡± he repeated, ¡°so I offer you a choice. Remain an Eagle and continue to serve me faithfully, as you have done up to now. If you so choose, you will leave with your comrade Wolfhere this morning. Renounce your oaths as an Eagle, if you will, and I will return you to Father Hugh, as he has asked. This is the king¡¯s will. Let none contest my judgment.¡±


    He spoke the words harshly, and the instant he uttered them she could have sworn the words were meant for his absent son. A kick of rebellion started alive in her gut. What had the king threatened Sanglant with to make him stay away?


    But as the silence spread, waiting on her choice, she heard Hugh¡¯s ragged breathing; she heard murmurs and the distant sound of dogs yipping. A horse neighed. A drover shouted in the lower enclosure, so faint that even the scuff of her knee on the dirt made a louder sound.


    ¡°I will ride with Wolfhere, Your Majesty.¡± Each word stabbed like a knife in the heart.


    Hugh stirred. She knew he was spitting furious, but nothing of his rage showed on his fine, handsome face. Ai, Lady! She was free of him at last. But all she felt was a cold emptiness in her chest.


    ¡°Take what you will in recompense from my treasury, Father Hugh,¡± continued Henry. ¡°You have served my daughter and my kingdom well, and I am pleased with your counsel.¡±


    ¡°Your Majesty.¡± Hugh rose gracefully and, as he stepped back, he bowed in submission to the king¡¯s decree. ¡°¡®In his days righteousness shall flourish, and prosperity abound until the moon is no more.¡¯¡±


    ¡°You may go,¡± said the king to the two Eagles in the tone of one who has been tried beyond his patience.


    ¡°Come, Liath,¡± murmured Wolfhere. ¡°We have outstayed our welcome.¡± But he did not look unhappy.


    She was nothing, an empty vessel drained dry, all her hopes gone for nothing, but Da hadn¡¯t raised a fool. She insisted they stop at the count¡¯s stables, and here she took possession of her fine horse, her saddle and bridle, rope and saddlebags, a quiver¡¯s worth of arrows, and the beautifully worked leather belt by the renowned Master Hosel, whoever he was. Wolfhere was astounded by this largesse, but he raised no objections. He was too eager to leave.


    She cried soundlessly when they rode down through the ramparts of Werlida and set their horses¡¯ heads to follow the southern road, but she dared not look back.


    IV


    THE SCENT OF BLOOD


    1


    THROUGH birch and spruce he runs, aware that another runs behind him: Second Son of the Sixth Litter, the least of his enemies because of all the brothers he is the first to stalk him. The others deem him so worthless that they will leave him until the end. But he has planned it out all carefully: the first, and least, of the traps will be good enough to dispose of the least of his opponents.


    Along the ground a wealth of ferns shatters under him; sedge and bramble give way as he leaps up a slope. He hears the roar of his pursuer, who is tired of running and wishes simply to bring his quarry to bay and fight to the death. May the strongest win.


    Ahead, a boulder painted with lichen shoulders up out of the undergrowth: his marker. Beyond it a thick stand of trees awaits. He can almost feel the breath of Second Son on his back, feel the swipe of a clawed hand stirring the delicate links of his golden girdle as Second Son lunges¡ªand misses.

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    Too late. He cuts in among the trees to a clearing hollowed out by dense growth shading away bracken. Old needles give him spring as he jumps, tucks, rolls in the air and out onto safe ground just as Second Son blunders into the clearing and roars triumph ¡­


    ¡­ and the ground shudders beneath him as ropes slither up on all sides, tugged into the trees by ten slaves hidden in the branches. The trap closes, a net sewn with fishhooks, and Second Son is tumbled into it. He writhes, howling in fury.


    As he fights to free himself from the net, fishhooks bound along the rope catch against his skin with each twist and turn Each barb finds purchase under the finely-layered scales that protect his hide. As he fights, more catch and tug and tear, yet it is not the pain that makes Second Son howl but the knowledge of defeat. He thrashes helplessly, gets a claw loose, and begins to rip at the rope, woven of kelp and flax and strips of bark and hair blessed by the Soft Ones¡¯ deacon. But his arm catches on more fishhooks; as each one sinks in, it sticks stubbornly, and he must rip his skin free in order to begin again.


    For one moment Fifth Son allows himself to watch the shuddering of the net in the air. Through the branches he sees his slaves straining to hold it taut while the net convulses around Second Son. Struggling in a net woven of ropes sewn with fish hooks is like struggling against fate: Resistance only sinks the barbs in more deeply.


    He steps forward onto ground churned and disordered by the sudden hoisting of the net. Second Son spits curses at him but has no power to make those curses stick. He is helpless, and in moments he will be dead. Fifth Son steps close and unsheathes his claws.


    Alain blinked, dizzy, and came abruptly awake out of an uncomfortable doze. He heard clerics singing the service of Nones, but the music rang in his ears like a dirge for the forgotten dead and he was pierced with such a vivid memory of Lackling joyfully feeding the sparrows that he thought his heart would rend in two from sorrow. Afternoon light splashed across the chamber. Ardent lay still beneath his hands, and he moved to shift her gently off his legs¡ªonly to bruise himself, crushed beneath her weight. She might have been stone.


    ¡°Son.¡± Lavastine stood at the window and now hurried over to brush a finger against Alain¡¯s cheek. ¡°Don¡¯t fight her weight. I didn¡¯t want to disturb you before. She¡¯s rested so peacefully because she lay with you. There, you see. She¡¯s almost gone.¡±


    Ardent whimpered softly, but as he stroked her head, he could see the suck of her lungs grow shallow.


    ¡°Where is Tallia?¡± he whispered.


    ¡°When you slept, she took her attendants and went to pray in the chapel. It is better so. God have mercy.¡± Only the scrape in his voice revealed his grief; his expression was as smooth as Ardent¡¯s coat. He sat on the bed, rested fingers lightly on her muzzle as she stiffened entirely and, at last, ceased to breathe.


    The other hounds, who had remained silent at their vigil throughout the day, began to howl. A musky odor seemed to steam up from their bodies, like the heavy scent of mourning. From across the palace grounds, all the other dogs and hounds joined in until their mourning became cacophony.


    Lavastine sat on the bed with head bowed and chin resting on his folded hands. With some difficulty, Alain got out from under Ardent¡¯s weight and, with his legs tingling, grimaced as he knelt beside her. Tears came. He could not bear to take his hand off her cold head. Her ears had the same stiff curl as would a sheet of metal molded to form such a shape. The servants stayed back, well aware of the uncertain temper of the other hounds, who might lunge without warning.


    Finally Lavastine stirred, and rested a hand on Alain¡¯s hair. ¡°Hush, Son. There is nothing you can do for her now.¡±


    Sorrow barked and the other hounds growled as the servants moved aside to make way for a tall figure.


    ¡°Your Highness.¡± Lavastine stood.


    Terror took two stiff steps forward to growl at the prince as he entered the chamber, and immediately all the hounds coursed forward protectively. The servants bolted back out of range. The prince lifted a gloved hand like a weapon and, seemingly without thinking, growled back at the hounds from deep in his throat, a hoarse sound as threatening as the one made by the hounds.


    Prince and hounds faced off, not retreating, not attacking. Then, hackles still raised, Terror took a wary sidestep as if to signal to the rest that this foe was worthy of respect¡ªif not friendship. The prince glanced once around to check their positions, then knelt beside Ardent. By every twitch of Prince Sanglant¡¯s body, by his very stance, Alain could see he would strike at any aggressive movement, but the hounds behaved themselves except for a low growl that escaped Rage at intervals.

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    Alain wiped his nose and tried to speak in greeting, but he could not get words past the grief lodged in his throat.


    ¡°I heard the tale,¡± said the prince, ¡°and I helped the huntsmen beat the bushes on the cliffs and down by the river, but we found nothing. The adder must have gone back into its den.¡± He glanced again toward the hounds, aware of their least shifting movements. Rage growled again, all stiff-legged, but did not rush in: She knew a worthy opponent when she saw one. ¡°May I look at the wound?¡±


    ¡°I thank you,¡± said Lavastine.


    Alain made to shift Ardent¡¯s right foreleg to turn over her paw ¡­ and for a moment could not, until he braced himself and heaved. She was almost too heavy to be moved.


    ¡°Strange,¡± said Sanglant as he examined the paw. ¡°It¡¯s as if she¡¯s turned to stone.¡± He bent to sniff along her body exactly as a dog would.


    Behind, the servants whispered as they watched him, and abruptly Sanglant jerked up, hands clenching at his side, as if he¡¯d heard them. Bliss barked a warning. Outside, the baying and howling had subsided.


    ¡°She smells like the Eika.¡± He shook his head as a hound flings off water. He traced the curve of her ear and the grain of her nose, dry and as cold as stone. ¡°Are you sure it was an adder that bit her?¡±


    ¡°What else could it have been?¡± asked Lavastine. ¡°She was at the threshold, there¡ª¡± He pointed to the door of the chamber.


    ¡°You saw nothing?¡± The prince looked at Alain. He had startlingly green eyes and an expression as guarded as that of a caged panther which, given room to bolt free, suspects a hidden weapon is poised to strike it down as it runs.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t here¡ª¡± Alain felt himself blush.


    ¡°Of course not,¡± said the prince curtly. ¡°I beg your pardon.¡± He paced to the window, stared out as if searching for someone, then abruptly turned back. ¡°I saw a creature among the Eika that was dead and yet was animated by Bloodheart¡¯s magic.¡± When he spoke the name of his captor, his gaze flinched inward. He touched the iron collar that ringed his neck, noticed that he had touched it, and jerked his hand down to his belt. A flush spread across his fine, high cheekbones, a dull stain over his golden-bronze complexion.


    Lavastine waited, toying with Ardent¡¯s leash, tying it into knots and untying it again without once glancing at his hands.


    At last Sanglant shook his head impatiently. ¡°Nay, it is impossible that such a thing could live past Bloodheart¡¯s death. Or that it could follow us so far, when only sunlight animates it and we travel swiftly by horse and it is no bigger than a rat.¡±


    ¡°What you speak of is not at all clear to me, Your Highness.¡± Lavastine gestured to the servants and, as one, they retreated out the door to leave the count, his heir, and the half-wild prince alone with the living hounds and their dead companion.


    Sanglant hissed between his teeth. ¡°Lady preserve me,¡± he whispered as if struggling against some inner demon. ¡°It was a curse, that¡¯s all I know.¡± He measured his words slowly, as if he did not quite have control of them¡ªlike a nervous horseman given an untried mount to ride. ¡°A curse Bloodheart wove to protect himself from any man or Eika who wished to kill him. Let you and your people accompany me, Count Lavastine. I have certain ¡­ skills. Together with your hounds, if there is aught that stalks this place, we can catch it.¡± He paused, set a hand on Ardent¡¯s cold paw, and shut his eyes as he considered.


    Suddenly he started up with such violence that the hounds began barking madly.


    ¡°Peace!¡± said Lavastine over their noise, and they subsided.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t you at all,¡± said the prince. ¡°It¡¯s seeking her. She¡¯s the one who killed him.¡±


    That quickly, and without warning or any least polite words of parting, he was out the door and vanished from their sight. They heard the servants scattering out of his way as he strode down the corridor, and then much murmuring, leaves settling to earth after a gale blows through.


    Lavastine sat for a long while in silence, so stem of face that the servants, glancing in, retreated at once. ¡°A curse,¡± he muttered finally. He lowered his eyes to the tangled leash, and sighed as Alain wiped a tear from his own eye. Poor, good-natured Ardent. It seemed impossible that she wasn¡¯t barking cheerfully, begging to be let out for a run.


    Then he lifted a hand and touched a finger to his lips as he did when he meant Alain to listen closely. ¡°Prince Sanglant is beholden to me for rescuing him. He favors you, and Henry favors him¡ªwhich is not surprising. Princess Sapientia is brave but impulsive and unsteady. I have not seen Princess Theophanu, but she is said to be coldhearted. Alas for Henry that the prince is only half of human kin, and a bastard besides. Watch and listen carefully as we ride with the king¡¯s progress. I believe the king wishes to make Sanglant his heir¡ª¡±

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    ¡°But Prince Sanglant was conceived and borne to give King Henry the right by fertility to reign. Not to rule after him!¡±


    ¡°Henry must give him legitimacy, but he cannot simply confer it upon him as he¡ªand I¡ªconferred legitimacy upon you. The princes of the realm will not stand aside and watch a half-human bastard become regnant, no matter how respected a war leader he is. Nay, he¡¯s scarcely better than a dog at times now.¡± He nudged Ardent¡¯s corpse with his shoe, then looked surprised and rubbed his toe. With a frown, he touched the hound¡¯s ears and with that same hand wiped away tears before turning back to his son. ¡°Which is why the prince seeks to bring me into his circle by showing me such marked favor. He must cultivate powerful allies, and he must marry well.¡±


    ¡°Someone like Tallia.¡± Heat flushed Alain¡¯s skin and scalded his tears away.


    ¡°Yes. Now that you are married to Tallia, no one will remember that you were once a bastard. I believe that Henry will send Prince Sanglant to Aosta. It is what I would do in his place, and Henry is a strong and cunning king.¡± He whistled the dogs to heel. ¡°Come. Let us lay poor Ardent to rest.¡±


    They made a solemn procession: the count, his heir, their servants, and the six black hounds. It took six men to carry the corpse on a litter, whose woven branches had to be reinforced twice over before it could take the weight of the dead hound.


    Servants had gone ahead to dig a grave outside the lower ramparts. Robins hunting for worms along the banks of newly-turned earth fluttered away as the funeral procession came up beside the open pit. The men carrying the litter set it at the lip of the grave and heaved up one side to roll the body out. The corpse did not budge until they hoisted the litter almost perpendicular, faces strained and backs sweating, and then the body tumbled down. It hit dirt with an audible thud.


    Alain winced. Ai, Lady, what a strange death had overtaken her! The hounds snuffled around the upturned earth, but they seemed not to recognize the remains which lay in the grave as those of their sister and cousin. She no longer smelled of the pack.


    A space chipped into the bank of soil as the servingmen began to fill in the grave. Clumps of dirt rained down, drowning her, as if sorrow could be buried together with the corpse of a loved one. The patter fell like hailstones. Somewhere, in the distance, he heard a horse galloping off down the southward road. He smelled the perfume of soil, roots and earth and crawling things intertwined. A worm wiggled out of the unforgiving stare of the sun where it had been upended by the grave-digging and slid away into a heap of moist earth.


    The fragrance engulfed him, made his head spin¡­.


    He smells blood and cautiously approaches the tumble of boulders. Tenth Son of the Fourth Litter lies splayed in death, limbs bent at awkward angles, throat ripped clean and one arm torn off. The pebbles sprayed everywhere, scuffed ground, moss torn into scraps all around the bloody soil might as well be signs recording in their ephemeral writing the course and outcome of the duel. By next summer, after winter scours the earth clean, no one will be able to trace in this arena that one fought and the other died.


    He grips one copper-skinned shoulder of the corpse and rolls it over to reveal the back of the neck: The braid is shorn free. He touches the braid now coiled around his right arm. After he cut it off Second Son, he bound it to his own arm as both trophy and proof, just as one of the other brothers now carries the cut braid of Tenth Son in like manner. Where is that brother now?


    He hears a scuff, and the wind shifts to bring him the whisper of a girdle shifting along thick flanks as someone steps stealthily toward him behind the cover of rocks. That quickly, he bolts.


    That he is slender makes him swift. Fourth Son of the Ninth Litter thunders after him, but his vast girth makes him as slow as he is brutishly strong. This brother could rend him limb from body with a casual yank¡ªas he did to Tenth Son.


    Fifth Son gauges distance and speed and, like lightning forking, veers right to sprint for Lightwoven River, where his second trap waits.


    ¡°Hai! Hai! Hai! Coward and weakling!¡± howls Fourth Son.


    He minds it not but keeps running, although he slows to a lope, knowing that Fourth Son cannot catch him even with a burst of speed. He need only stay far enough ahead to be free of that overpowering grip and yet close enough that Fourth Son will keep after him rather than give up to go hunt one of the others.


    River gravel spins under his feet. He leaps for the narrow footbridge that spans the rushing waters here where they funnel toward the cliff and the great spill of Lightfell Waterfall. The planks sway dangerously under him; he feels the weakened ropes creak and can almost smell the strands fray further.

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    Then he is across, and he spins back just as Fourth Son hits the planks with his heavy pounding run. With the merest snick of his claws, he finishes off the rope struts that are already cut through and frayed to the breaking point.


    The bridge collapses under Fourth Son¡¯s considerable weight. Planks skitter and tumble and rope handholds drop away. He falls into the icy water¡ªnot that the water will drown him, but here the current runs narrow and strong as it pours itself over the cliff and spills and spins and sprays down.


    Down he falls over the Lightfell Waterfall. His body strikes rocks, spins, bumps, tumbles down the ragged cliff face and finally is doused in the pounding roar at the base where the rush of water hammers into the fjordwaters and erupts as mist.


    He goes under.


    Fifth Son waits atop the ridge, scanning the waters.


    There! A head bobs up, ice-white braid a snake upon the water. Arms stroke with stubborn resolve. Beaten, bloodied, and battered by the fall, Fourth Son is yet alive.


    He expected this.


    But he does not have to wait long for what he knows will come next.


    Farther out, where the fjordwaters lie still, movement eddies. A slick back surfaces and vanishes, swift and silent as it circles in. There, to its left, another ripple stirs the surface of the water. And another.


    Fourth Son strokes toward shore. He is not dead, of course, but he does not need to be dead. He only needs to be bleeding.


    Waters part as a tail skims, flicks up, and slaps down. Too late Fourth Son realizes his danger. The waters swirl with sudden violence around him. He thrashes, goes under. Wet scales gleam, curving backs swirl, a ghastly head rears up, water streaming from the netlike hair which itself winds and coils like a living thing. Fourth Son emerges from the roiling waters clawing at his attackers. From his station at the height of the cliff, Fifth Son hears a howl of triumph as one of the merfolk shudders and sinks, while an inky black trail bubbles in its wake. The merfolk close in. Water boils. Fourth Son vanishes beneath the cold gleam of the fjordwaters. Like a churning mill, the eddies run round, slow into ripples, smooth over.


    All is still again¡ªexcept for the shattering roar of the falls. Blood stains the water and mingles with inky fluid torn out of the merman.


    A back breaks the surface, slides in a graceful curve back into the depths, and turns toward shore. He waits. A rock shelf juts out along one side of the base of the waterfall. Suddenly, the waters part and the creature rears up to reveal its face: flat red eyes gleaming like banked fires, noseless but for dark slits over a nodelike swelling, and a mouth grinning with rows of glittering sharp teeth. As it rises, its hair and mane begin to writhe wildly, each strand with its own snapping mouth as if eels had affixed themselves to its head and neck. It has shoulder and arms, hands tipped with razor-sharp nails, and a ridged back that the light gilds to a silvery shine. The huge tail, longer than legs and far more powerful, heaves out of the water and slaps once, hard, echoing, on the rock. It makes no other sound.


    It tosses two braids¡ªone neatly shorn, one slightly bloody¡ªonto the rocky shelf. The merfolk are as much beast as intelligent being¡ªor so he has always believed. But they know the contest, and they know the rules. It would not do to underestimate them. An ambitious general can never have enough allies.


    With an awkward roll, arching backward, the merman spills off the shelf and hits the water hard. The huge splash melds with the waterfall¡¯s mist. The tail flicks up, as if in salute, slaps down again, and it is gone.


    All lies still.


    He climbs down the steps carved into the rock beside the falls. Down here, in the cavern hidden behind the spray, the priest hid his heart in a chest. He discovered it because he was patient; he waited and watched, and he listened to the priest murmur and sing about his hidden heart. And when at last one night the priest scurried from his nest cloaked with such shadows as he could grasp in the midsummer twilight, Fifth Son followed him.


    Now he controls the priest¡¯s heart¡ªand the priest¡¯s obedience.


    He wonders, briefly, about Bloodheart¡¯s curse. By his own testimony the priest turned the curse away from himself But where did it fall? Who will be cursed by the poison of Blood heart¡¯s hatred and thwarted greed?


    Hate is the worst poison of all because it blinds.


    He reaches the shelf, pauses to scan the waters, but they lie unsullied by any evidence of the gruesome fight conducted a short while before. Water speaks in a short-lived voice, ever-changing, mortal by reason of its endless fluidity.


    Yet even water wears away rock in time, so the WiseMother say.


    Out beyond the thrumming roar of the waterfall, the sun make the water gleam until it shines like a painted surface. Is that a ripple of movement, or only a trick of the light?

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    He kneels to pick up the two braids. Deftly he binds then around his upper arms like armbands. Three brothers dead. He touches his own braid, making of it a talisman.


    Only two left to kill ¡­


    ¡­ but they will be the wiliest and smartest and strongest of Bloodheart¡¯s sons¡ªbesides himself, of course. For them, he has laid the most dangerous trap of all¡ªthe one not even he may survive.


    Rage snapped at a butterfly and the bright creature skimmed away, lost in the spinning air.


    Alain stood alone by the filled-in grave. Only Rage and Sorrow and a single servant, standing at a safe distance, attended him. Everyone else had gone. His knees almost gave out and his head swam as he staggered to kneel beside the fresh grave. But when he touched the soil, he felt nothing but dirt. Ardent¡¯s spirit, with her body, had vanished. A bold robin had returned to hunt these rich fields and now looked him over from a saf distance, head cocked to one side.


    ¡°My lord?¡± The servant came forward tentatively.


    He sighed and rose. Now the rest of them would go on, and leave her behind. ¡°Where are the others?¡±


    ¡°My lord count has gone to begin preparations for leave-taking. The clerics have told him that tomorrow is a propitious day to undertake a long journey.¡±


    ¡°The curse,¡± Alain whispered, recalling his dream. ¡°I must find out what he knows.¡±


    ¡°I beg your pardon, my lord?¡±


    ¡°I must speak to Prince Sanglant.¡± He whistled the hounds to him and went to seek out Prince Sanglant.


    There was a commotion in the great yard that fronted the king¡¯s residence: two riders spoke urgently with the king¡¯s favored Eagle while a cleric stood to one side, listening intently. Princess Sapientia and a party of riders attired for a pleasure ride waited impatiently, but because Father Hugh lingered to hear the news, none of them dared ride out yet. The folk gathered to hear the news parted quickly to let Alain and the hounds through. But he had no sooner come up beside the Eagle when the doors into the king¡¯s residence swung open and King Henry strode out into the glare of the afternoon sun. Dressed for riding in a handsomely trimmed tunic, a light knee-length cloak clasped with an elaborate brooch at his right shoulder, and soft leather boots, he waved away the horse brought up for him and turned on the steward who stood white-faced and nervous behind him.


    ¡°What do you mean, with no attendants?¡±


    ¡°He was in a foul temper, Your Majesty, after he went to the stables, and he was not inclined to answer our questions. And he took the ¡­ dogs ¡­ with him, and a spare mount.¡±


    ¡°No one thought to ride after him?¡±


    ¡°I pray you, Eagle,¡± said Alain, cutting in now that all others had fallen silent. ¡°Do you know where I might find Prince Sanglant?¡±


    The Eagle looked at him strangely, but she inclined her head. ¡°He rode out alone, my lord, in great haste, as if a madness convulsed him.¡± She seemed about to say more, then did not.


    ¡°Two men rode after him, at a discreet distance,¡± replied the steward who had by now gone red in the face from the heat of the king¡¯s anger.


    The king grunted. ¡°The southern road,¡± he said furiously. ¡°That is where you¡¯ll find him. It takes no scouts to tell me that.¡± His gaze swept the forecourt, dismissing daughter and noble attendants until it came to rest on his favored Eagle. Her, he beckoned to. ¡°Send a dozen riders to track him down. But discreetly, as you say. That would be best.¡±


    The Eagle retired graciously, but with haste, toward the stables. The cleric led the two dust-covered riders away as they questioned her about the accommodations that would be available¡ªand Alain suddenly realized that they were not the king¡¯s riders but one man and one woman, each wearing the badge of a hawk. Father Hugh had a pleasant smile on his face, and he swung back beside Princess Sapientia and spoke to her in a low voice as they rode away.


    Helmut Villam came out to stand beside the king, who lingered, slapping a dog leash trimmed with brass against his palm. Henry beckoned to Alain. ¡°So, young Alain, you seek my son as well.¡±


    ¡°So I do, Your Majesty. I saw him earlier this morning. He was agitated, and he spoke of some kind of curse, a trap laid by Bloodheart against any person who sought to kill him.¡±


    ¡°Bloodheart! Yet he¡¯s dead and safely gone.¡± But abruptly he looked hopeful. ¡°Do you think Sanglant might have ridden north toward Gent?¡±


    Any man would have been tempted to coax the king into a better humor, but Alain saw no point in lying. ¡°Nay, Your Majesty. I think he rode after the Eagle, as you said before.¡±

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    Henry¡¯s expression clouded.


    ¡°You should have offered her as a concubine to him,¡± said Villam in the tone of a man who has seen the storm coming for hours and is disgusted because his companion refused to take shelter before the rains hit.


    ¡°I did! But I don¡¯t trust Wolfhere. She¡¯s his discipla. I¡¯m sure it¡¯s a plot.¡±


    Villam grunted. ¡°Perhaps. But Wolfhere seemed eager enough to remove her from court. On this matter I do not think that your wish and his are far apart.¡±


    ¡°That may be,¡± admitted the king in a grudging tone. ¡°What am I to do? If I make Sapientia margrave of Eastfall, then she¡¯ll be out of the way, but if I cannot make Sanglant cooperate, see the wisdom of marrying onto the Aostan throne, then what do I do with him?¡±


    ¡°Do not despair yet. I have said before and I say it again: Encourage him in his suit. No lord or lady will follow him if he does not ¡­¡± He hesitated.


    ¡°Speak your mind, Villam! If you do not, then who will?¡±


    Villam¡¯s sigh had as much meaning as any hundred words. ¡°He is half a dog. That everyone whispers it doesn¡¯t make it less true. He must become a man again and, as the philosopher says, young people are at first likely to fall in love with one particular beautiful person and only later observe that the beauty exhibited in one body is one and the same as in any other.¡±


    Henry laughed. ¡°How long did it take you to come to this conclusion, my good friend?¡±


    Villam chuckled. ¡°I am not given up on my study yet. Let the young man make his. He will become more tractable after. Right now he is like to a dog who has sniffed a bitch in heat¡ªhe is all madness for her and can¡¯t control himself.¡±


    Alain blushed furiously, and suddenly the king smiled, looking right at him. ¡°Go on, son,¡± he said genially. ¡°I saw Tallia enter the chapel earlier. That¡¯s where you¡¯ll find her.¡±


    Alain said the correct polite leave-takings, and retreated. The chapel doors yawned invitingly. Inside, he would find Tallia. But the thought of her only made him blush the harder.


    She reached the threshold before him, escorted by Lavastine, who smiled to see him coming. Tallia shrank away from Rage and Sorrow, and Alain took her aside, away from the hounds.


    ¡°Will you ride out?¡± he asked, eager to make her happy.


    ¡°Nay,¡± she said faintly. She looked unwell, quite tired and drawn.


    ¡°Then we will sit quietly together.¡±


    ¡°Alain.¡± Lavastine nodded toward the king. ¡°I have already made known my intention to leave tomorrow. It is long past time we return to Lavas.¡±


    Tallia had the look of a cornered deer.


    ¡°We¡¯ll rest this evening,¡± said Alain. ¡°You needn¡¯t attend the feast if you¡¯re unwell.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she murmured so quietly that he could barely hear her.


    He glanced at Lavastine, who gave a bare nod of approval and then went to instruct his servants about the packing. They retired to their chamber, where she prayed for such a long time that Alain, kneeling beside her bodily but not truly in spirit, had finally to stand up because his knees hurt. He ordered a platter of food brought in, but although it was now twilight and she had fasted all day, she ate only some gruel and two crusts of bread. He felt like a glutton beside her.


    ¡°What is it like in Lavas?¡± she asked fearfully. ¡°I¡¯ll be at your mercy.¡±


    ¡°Of course you won¡¯t be at my mercy!¡± How could she think of him in such an unflattering light? ¡°You are the daughter of Duke Berengar and Duchess Sabella. How can you imagine that I or anyone could take advantage of you when you are born into the royal kin?¡±


    ¡°I am merely a Lion in the king¡¯s chess game, a pawn, nothing more than that,¡± she said bitterly. ¡°As are you, only you do not see it.¡±


    ¡°We aren¡¯t pawns! God have given us free will.¡±


    ¡°That is not what I meant,¡± she said with such a sigh that he thought her in pain. ¡°It is the world I wish to be free of. I want only to devote my life to our Holy Mother, who is God, and to pledge myself as a bridge to the blessed Daisan and in this way live a pure life of holy good deeds as did St. Radegundis.¡±


    ¡°She married and bore a child,¡± he said with sudden anger, stung by her words.


    ¡°She was pregnant when Emperor Taillefer died. No one knows what happened to the child. I asked Sister Rosvita, and she says the matter is not mentioned again in the Vita. If our Holy Mother had intended St. Radegundis for earthly glory and a wealth of children, She would have showered her with these riches, since it is easily within Her power to grant something so trivial. She had greater plans for Radegundis, who made of herself a holy vessel for this purpose.¡±

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    ¡°A child doesn¡¯t just vanish!¡± retorted Alain, who could just imagine what his Aunt Bel¡ªnot his aunt any longer¡ªwould say to the notion of children and prosperity being trivial things in the eyes of the Lord and Lady, through Whose agency all that is bountiful arises.


    Tallia laughed, sounding for a moment so heartless that he wondered if he knew her at all. ¡°What do you think would happen to a newborn child of a dead emperor whose last wife has no kin to protect her from the vultures who have flocked to feed on the corpse? I believe Our Lady was merciful, and that the child was born dead.¡±


    ¡°That isn¡¯t mercy!¡±


    But she only bowed her head and turned away from him to kneel again by the bed, hands clasped atop the beautifully embroidered bedspread, forehead resting on her hands as she murmured a prayer. He signed for the servants to leave.


    ¡°Tallia¡ª¡± he began, when they were alone.


    She raised her eyes to him reproachfully.


    ¡°Tallia.¡± But her fawnlike eyes, the slender tower of her neck, the beat of her pulse at her throat¡ªall this enflamed him. He had to pace to the window, leaning out to get any least draft of cooling air on his face. He had only to be patient, to coax her.


    When at last he turned back, she had fallen asleep, slumped over the bed. She looked so frail that he couldn¡¯t bring himself to disturb her but instead gently lifted her onto the bed. Her eyelids fluttered, but she did not wake. He wanted to lie beside her, to keep that contact between them, but it felt somehow obscene because she was so limp, so resistless¡ªas if he had unnatural feelings toward a corpse. He shuddered and eased off the bed.


    Restless, he paced a while longer. He sent a servant to inquire after Prince Sanglant, but the prince had not returned to the palace, nor had those sent out to look for him.


    Much later he heard the six hounds, confined to Lavastine¡¯s chamber, welcome the count with whines and whimpers as he came in from the night¡¯s feasting. He kept listening, expecting to hear a seventh familiar voice, but it never came: Ardent was truly gone.


    2


    WITH two horses, changing off, he made good time, and the dogs never seemed to tire. There was only one road to follow until the village of Ferse, nestled in the heel of a portion of land protected by the confluence of two rivers. There he questioned the ferryman about two Eagles who had passed earlier in the day: They had continued south into the forest rather than splitting off on the east-west path. Several startled farmers walking home from their fields along the roadside confirmed that they had seen Eagles riding past.


    Neat strips of cultivated fields became scattered woods and pastureland, then forest swallowed everything but the cut of the road. Beneath the trees, summer¡¯s evening light filtered into a haze of fading color. The wind blew in his favor: He heard them before he saw them, two riders and two spare horses.


    Wolfhere turned first to see who approached from behind. Sanglant heard the old Eagle swear under his breath, and he smiled with grim satisfaction. Then Liath turned to look over her shoulder. She reined in her horse at once, forcing Wolfhere to pull up as well.


    ¡°We have farther to go this night if we mean to sleep in the way station that lies ahead,¡± warned Wolfhere.


    Liath did not reply, did not need to; Sanglant knew how a woman¡¯s body spoke, how her expression betrayed her desire. She tried to master her expression, to give nothing away, but her entire face had lit and a grin kept tugging at her mouth. He knew then that he could succeed if only he behaved as a man, not a dog.


    Wolfhere minced no words. ¡°This is madness. Liath, we must ride on.¡±


    ¡°No. I will hear what Sanglant has to say.¡±


    ¡°You know what I have to say.¡± Sanglant dismounted, staked down the dogs, then crossed to her and offered to take her reins as would a groom. She gave them to him, but did not dismount.


    ¡°You are not thinking this through, Liath,¡± continued Wolfhere furiously. ¡°You will lose the protection of the Eagles, which is all that saved you from Hugh first at Heart¡¯s Rest and this very morning at the king¡¯s court. All this to go to a man who has nothing, not land, not arms, no retinue, no control over his own destiny because he has no inheritance from his mother¡ª¡±


    ¡°Save my blood,¡± said Sanglant softly, and was happy to see Wolfhere glance angrily at him and then away.


    ¡°¡ªand you will live at his mercy. Without the protection of the Eagles or any other kin he is the only protection you will have against those like Hugh who seek to enslave you. And that protection will be offered to you only for as long as he desires you.¡±

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    ¡°Marriage is a holy sacrament,¡± observed Sanglant, ¡°and not to be split asunder on a whim.¡±


    ¡°Marriage?¡± exclaimed Wolfhere, and for the breath of an instant, Sanglant had the satisfaction of seeing him look panicked. But Wolfhere was too old and wily to remain so for long. He recovered as quickly as an experienced soldier who has lost his footing in the midst of battle: with an aggressive stab. ¡°Mind you, Liath, King Henry¡¯s displeasure is not a thing to be undertaken lightly. He will refuse to recognize the marriage. He has passed judgment: that you serve in his Eagles or return to Hugh. Will he rule differently if you return claiming marriage to his favored son? Or will he wish to be rid of you? And if so, where can you flee, neither of you with kin to support you? Your mother is waiting for you, Liath.¡±


    Sanglant recognized danger instantly. ¡°Your mother?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve given up more than you know, Wolfhere,¡± retorted Liath. ¡°If I go to my mother, then I must leave the Eagles in any case. Why would Henry not object then? Only because he would not know and thus could not return me to Hugh? Is my reunion with my mother to be based on deceit? Why should I trust you?¡±


    ¡°Why should you trust Sanglant?¡± Wolfhere demanded.


    But she only laughed, and her laughter made his heart sing with joy, although the words that came next were bitter and angry. ¡°Because he¡¯s no more capable of lying than are those dogs. Even Da lied to me. You lied to me, Wolfhere, and I wonder if my mother lied as well. If she had made any kind of effort to find us, wouldn¡¯t he still be alive?¡±


    A whiff of smoke rose on the breeze, some distant sparking fire that faded as Liath stared Wolfhere down, her expression as fierce as the king¡¯s when he allowed himself to succumb to one of his famous wraths. But a kind of unearthly fire shone from her, something he could almost smell more than see, an uncanny, pure scent. Sanglant took hold of one of her wrists, and she, startled, glanced at him, then sighed. That scent burned in her, almost a living creature in its own right. Her skin seemed to steam with her anger.


    Made humble before it, Wolfhere said only: ¡°She must teach you, Liath. You know by now that you desperately need teaching.¡±


    There was the danger. He saw the shadow of it flicker over her expression: she needed something he could not give her, and Wolfhere would use that need to sway her. But Sanglant had no intention of losing her again. ¡°Wherever you need to go,¡± he said, ¡°I will take you there.¡±


    ¡°What if your father objects?¡± Liath asked. ¡°What if he won¡¯t give you horses, or arms, or an escort?¡±


    He laughed recklessly. ¡°I don¡¯t know. What does it matter what might happen¡ªonly what can, now, this night.¡±


    ¡°Bred and trained for war,¡± muttered Wolfhere, ¡°with no thought beyond the current battle.¡±


    She had a sharp flush on her cheeks and looked away from both of them, but he knew what she was thinking of. He found it hard not to think of it himself. He released her wrist abruptly. Suddenly his grasp on her seemed too much like Bloodheart¡¯s iron collar, a means to force her to do what he wanted her to do rather than to let her make the choice. ¡°It is true I have nothing to offer you by way of estates or income as part of the marriage agreement. It is true that my father will object. But he may also see reason when presented with a vow witnessed, legal, and binding. I am not the only man available to marry Princess Adelheid. Let my father object first, then we will see. We may both be set upon by bandits and killed before we can get back to Werlida to receive the king¡¯s judgment! And I have other resources.¡±


    ¡°Such as?¡± asked Wolfhere, not without sarcasm.


    ¡°Where is my mother now, Wolfhere?¡± asked Liath, cutting him off.


    But he remained stubbornly silent.


    ¡°You won¡¯t tell me,¡± she said harshly.


    ¡°I can¡¯t speak freely now.¡±


    ¡°Because of Sanglant?¡± She looked astounded.


    ¡°We are not always alone,¡± said Wolfhere cryptically, and as if in answer an owl suddenly glided into view. It came to rest quite boldly on an outstretched branch that jutted out over the road a few paces beyond Wolfhere¡¯s horse. Could it be the same owl that had led her to the burning stone? It was certainly as large. Its sudden arrival set the dogs to yammering until the creature noiselessly launched itself into the air and vanished into the darkening forest. The trees and undergrowth turned to blue-gray as the late summer evening faded toward night.


    When Wolfhere spoke again, it was with suppressed anger and a fierce intensity. ¡°You must accept, Liath, that we are caught in greater currents than you understand¡ªand until you do understand more fully, I must be circumspect.¡±

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    ¡°Why does King Henry hate you?¡± she asked. He betrayed himself by glancing at Sanglant, and that caused her to look at him as well. ¡°Do you know?¡± she asked, amazed.


    ¡°Of course I know.¡± The old story had long since ceased to stir in him anything more than a faint amusement. ¡°He tried to drown me when I was an infant.¡±


    ¡°Is that true?¡± she demanded of Wolfhere.


    He merely nodded. He could no longer disguise his anger¡ªthe annoyance of a man whose quiet plans are rarely thwarted.


    ¡°Alas that he didn¡¯t succeed,¡± added Sanglant, now beginning to be truly amused at Wolfhere¡¯s sullen silence. ¡°Then I wouldn¡¯t have had to suffer through so many of his later attempts to convince me that I was part of a terrible plot contrived by my mother and her kin. ¡®Who knows what will happen when the crown of stars crowns the heavens?¡¯ If only I had known, perhaps I might not have been abandoned by my mother, her unwanted child. At least my father cared for me.¡±


    ¡°And will he care for you still, my lord prince,¡± asked Wolfhere in a harsh voice, ¡°when you return with a bride not of his choosing?¡±


    Sanglant¡¯s smile now was grim and sure, his voice steady. ¡°I have other resources because I have made my reputation as a warrior. There are many princes in this world who would be happy to have me fight at their side, even at the risk of King Henry¡¯s displeasure. I am no longer dragon¡ªor pawn¡ªto be used in your chess games, Wolfhere, nor in my father¡¯s. I have left the board, and I will make my way with his blessing ¡­ or without it. So do I swear.¡±


    Wolfhere did not reply. Nor did Liath¡ªor at least, not in words. Instead, she unpinned her Eagle¡¯s cloak and rolled it up, then unclasped her Eagle¡¯s badge and fastened it to the cloak.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said, holding them out. ¡°But I made this choice days ago, and in far stranger circumstances than these. My mother now knows where to find me.¡±


    ¡°This was not to be! It is not possible that you should cleave unto him!¡±


    ¡°Because you will it otherwise?¡± she demanded. ¡°I refuse to be bound by the fate others have determined for me!¡±


    ¡°Liath!¡± Still he did not lean forward to take cloak and badge. ¡°If you go with him, you will be without any support¡ª¡±


    ¡°What other life do you think I have known? Da and I managed.¡±


    ¡°For a time.¡± Was his reply meant to be ominous, or was that only his frustration surfacing? He genuinely seemed to care about Liath¡¯s fate. ¡°Reflect on this, then. It is not only the cloak and badge I must take, but the horse. Provision was made for an Eagle, not for Sanglant¡¯s concubine.¡±


    She smiled triumphantly. ¡°Then it¡¯s as well I have my own horse, isn¡¯t it?¡± She dismounted, tied the cloak neatly onto the abandoned saddle, and removed the blanket roll. ¡°This, too, is mine. It came to me as a gift from Mistress Birta.¡± She took the reins from Sanglant and offered them to Wolfhere, who did not yet move.


    ¡°What of the sword and bow?¡± he demanded instead.


    Her expression did not change. The speed with which she had made her decision and the ruthlessness with which she now executed it impressed Sanglant¡ªand made him a bit apprehensive. She began to unbuckle her belt to loose the sheath and thereby the sword.


    ¡°Nay,¡± said Wolfhere quickly. ¡°I cannot leave you defenseless. If I have not persuaded you to come with me, then let that fault lie with me. You may change your mind.¡± Now he did take the reins, but he fixed his gaze on Liath¡¯s face as if to peer into her heart. ¡°You can still change your mind¡ª¡± Here he winced slightly, as at a thorn in his foot. ¡°¡ªuntil and unless you get pregnant by him. Ai, God, why won¡¯t you trust me? There are greater things than you know¡ª¡±


    ¡°Then tell me what they are!¡±


    But he only glanced toward the tree where the owl had alighted.


    ¡°Here,¡± said Sanglant, trying very hard to speak steadily, although he wanted to shout with triumph, ¡°I have two horses. The bay is more tractable.¡±


    ¡°Nay, let me only tighten the girth on Resuelto. I¡¯ll ride him now.¡±


    They left Wolfhere on the road, still caught as if by an invisible hand in that pose with one hand on his own reins and one holding that of the horse Liath had ridden. Liath looked back once as they rounded a bend, heading north, to catch a last sight of him. Sanglant did not bother.


    At first they had nothing to say, simply rode with eyes intent on the darkening road as they followed the track back toward Ferse. Her breathing, the thud of horses¡¯ hooves, and the scrabbling of the dogs as they padded alongside with occasional forays toward the roadside or nipping at each other all melded together with the shush of wind in the branches and the night sounds of animals coming awake.

 Page 69

    ¡°Where did you come by the horse?¡± he asked finally. ¡°He¡¯s very fine. It seems to me I¡¯ve seen him before.¡±


    ¡°Count Lavastine gave Resuelto to me as a reward for my service to him at Gent. And all the gear, too.¡±


    It stirred, then, a spark of jealousy¡ªquickly extinguished. She wasn¡¯t riding with Count Lavastine. She was riding with him.


    ¡°Will King Henry be very angry?¡± she asked in a tremulous voice.


    ¡°Yes. He wants me to ride south to Aosta to place Princess Adelheid on the Aostan throne, marry her, and name myself as king regnant. Then he can march south, have the skopos crown him emperor, and name me as his heir and successor because of the legitimacy conferred upon me by my title as king.¡±


    Her reply came more as a kind of stifled grunt than anything. They rode out into a clearing, vanguard of the open land that lay before them, and here he could see her expression clearly in the muted light of late evening. ¡°But then, if you marry me¡ª¡±


    He reined in and she had to halt. ¡°Let us speak of this once and not again,¡± he said, impatient not truly with her but with the arguments he knew would come once they returned to the king¡¯s progress. ¡°As Bloodheart¡¯s prisoner I saw what it meant to be a king. This, my retinue¡ª¡± He gestured toward the dogs who were by now well trained enough that they didn¡¯t try to rip out the horses¡¯ underbellies. ¡°¡ªwould have torn out my throat any time I showed weakness. So would the great princes do to my father, were he to show weakness. Imagine how they would lie in wait for me, because I am a bastard and only half of human kin. For one year I lived that way trapped in the cathedral in Gent. I will not live so again. I do not want to be king or emperor. But if you cannot believe me, Liath, then return to Wolfhere. Or break with the king and offer your service to Count Lavastine, who obviously values you. I will not have this conversation over and over if you in your heart doubt my intention.¡±


    She said nothing at first. Finally, she nudged her horse forward and commenced riding north along the road. He followed her. His heart pounded fiercely and a wave of dizziness swept through him so powerfully that he clutched the saddle to keep his seat. The pounding in his ears swelled until he started up, realizing he heard hoofbeats ahead.


    ¡°Pull up,¡± he said curtly, and she did so.


    ¡°What is it?¡± But then she, too, heard. A moment later they saw riders.


    Two men reined in, looking relieved. ¡°My lord prince!¡± Their horses were in a bad state; they-had not thought to take remounts.


    ¡°We¡¯ll return to the village,¡± said Sanglant to them, ¡°where we¡¯ll rest for the night. Then we¡¯ll rejoin the king.¡±


    They nodded, not asking questions.


    The sun had finally set, and they pressed forward through the moon-fed twilight, walking the horses in part to spare the blown mounts of their escort and in part because of the dim light. He had nothing to say to Liath, not with the two servingmen so close behind them. He did not really know what to say in any case. What point was there in saying anything? The decision had been made. There was, thank God, nothing left to discuss.


    She rode with a straight back and a proud, confident carriage. Did she have second thoughts as she rode beside him? He could not tell by her expression, half hidden by the deepening twilight. She seemed resolute, with her chin tilted back.


    A single lantern burned at the gate to Ferse, like a star fallen to earth¡ªthe only light besides that glistening down upon them from the heavens. Clouds had smothered the southern sky, blowing a brisk wind before it: a coming storm.


    He let one of the servingmen pound at the closed gate while he tried not to think of what lay ahead: a cold supper, and a bed. Certainly a few women had approached him in the last month¡ªsome, he suspected, at the instigation of Helmut Villam, who seemed to believe that every ill that assailed the male body could be cured by the vigorous application of sex¡ªbut he had not touched even one. He was afraid that he would make a fool of himself.


    Now, as the gate creaked open and they were admitted within the palisade by a suitably overawed young man acting as watchman, he was sorry he had not. Then at least he would have taken the edge off that terrible appetite which is desire unfulfilled. Even the mothers and fathers of the church understood that it is easier to cure the body of its lust for eat and drink than of the inclination toward concupiscence.


    In Ferse, a dozen riders waited, men-at-arms sent by the king who had stopped for that selfsame cold supper before riding on. They stared at Liath when the young watchman led her and Sanglant into the longhouse of his mother, a woman called Hilda. The householder was eager to serve a royal prince. She fed them with roasted chicken, greens, baked turnips, and a piece of honey cake.

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    ¡°There are two other things we need from you this night,¡± said Sanglant when he had finished his cup of ale. ¡°A bed.¡± Some of the men-at-arms gulped down laughter¡ªbut he heard no ridicule, only sympathetic amusement. He recognized all of these men as soldiers who had followed his command at the battle outside Gent. ¡°And your witness, Mistress Hilda, together with that of these men.¡±


    They waited expectantly. Mistress Hilda made a gesture for her son to fill the cups again, and the rest of her household huddled among the shadows under the interior eaves to listen.


    Liath had spoken no word since the first riders had caught up with them, but she stood now, hand trembling slightly as she took hold of the wooden cup. He stood hastily beside her, taut, like a hound held to a tight leash. ¡°With these folk as my witness, I thee pledge¡ª¡± She stumbled, tried again, this time looking at him, holding his gaze. ¡°I freely state my intention before God and these witnesses to bind myself in marriage with this man, given by his mother the name of Sanglant.¡±


    He did not stumble, but only because he simply repeated her words. ¡°I freely state my intention before God and these witnesses to bind myself in marriage with this woman, given by her father the name of Liathano.¡±


    ¡°I so witness,¡± said Mistress Hilda in a carrying voice.


    ¡°I so witness,¡± mumbled the poor soldiers, who well knew they would be called to explain the whole thing once they had returned to court.


    Then everyone drained their cups and there came one of those awkward pauses while everyone waited for someone else to make the first move.


    Mistress Hilda acted first. She made such a great fuss about surrendering the use of her best bed that Sanglant would have laughed if he hadn¡¯t been so damned nervous. No doubt once word spread that a king¡¯s son had spent his wedding night there many a villager would offer a basket of their best fruit, a prize chicken, or several plump partridges for the privilege of letting their own sons or daughters spend their wedding night in that same bed in the hope that some portion of the king¡¯s luck and fertility would rub off.


    The bed, built under the low slanting roof, boasted a luxurious feather mattress and a good stout curtain that could be drawn closed around it. Mistress Hilda herself chased off the two whippets curled up at the foot of the mattress. While a daughter shook out the blankets outside, the householder made a valiant attempt to brush out fleas and bugs. Then she herded the soldiers down to the empty half of the longhouse where, during the winter, the family stabled their livestock.


    One lantern still burned, and the longhouse doors, thrown open to admit the breeze, allowed a pearlescent gleam of moonlight to gild the darkest confines of the longhouse. Mistress Hilda made much of escorting them to the bed and drew the curtains shut behind them. With curtains drawn it was astoundingly black; he could not see at all. The air within was stuffy. Liath sat next to him. She did not move, nor did he. He was inordinately pleased with his self-control. He sat there, thinking that he ought to unwrap his sandals and leggings. Sweat prickled on his neck and a few beads of sweat trickled down his back. The bed still smelled of dog, and of the wool stored under the bed. Outside, where he had staked them, the Eika dogs barked, then settled down.


    ¡°Sanglant,¡± she whispered. She let out a sigh, and he almost lost himself. But he did not move. He was afraid to move.


    But she moved. Her fingers touched his cheek, the old remembered gesture from the crypt in the cathedral of Gent, then wandered to his ear and finally down to his neck, where she traced the rough surface of the slave collar around to its clasp.


    ¡°I swore that I would never love any man but you.¡± Her voice was tense with amazement. Without asking permission, she found the cunning mechanism that clasped the collar closed. Without chains locking it closed, it was easy for her to undo it. That quickly, she eased it off, then hissed between her teeth as she gently touched the skin beneath. He hissed, too, in pain; it was very tender. She leaned forward to kiss him at the base of his throat, over the scar from the wound that had ruined his voice, taken four years ago¡ªor was it five? Her lips burned as if with fire, but it was very hot within the curtains. Indeed, the only way to be at all comfortable was to take off his clothes¡ªalthough in such a confined space, and with her fumbling at her own next to him in such a distracting manner, it was not an easy task.


    She brushed him, naked now, her skin hot to the touch, and he most willingly lay down beside her although it took incredible strength of will not simply to have the matter done with in an instant¡ªall the time it would no doubt take him¡ªand be relieved however briefly of this horrible pressure of arousal.

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    She had no such strength of will, or considered it unnecessary. What passed next went rather faster than he would have wished, but he did not disgrace himself; his prayers did not go in vain, for the Lord watched over him and he managed to get through it as a man would, not losing control like a dog.


    ¡°Ai, Lady,¡± she whispered urgently, as if the strength of her passion scared her. ¡°I¡¯ll burn everything down.¡± He closed his arms around her, to be a shield against that fear. With her face pressed sideways against his neck she spoke in a slow murmur. ¡®I¡¯m not¡ªI¡¯m not what I seem. You felt it before. Da hid it from me, locked it away¡ª¡±


    This close, with her pressed bodily against him and nothing between them, nothing, he finally understood what it was that stirred there, inchoate, restless, almost like a second being trapped within her skin.


    Fire.


    ¡°You¡¯re like me,¡± he said, and heard how the hoarseness in lis voice made him sound astonished. As indeed he was.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± She pushed up, weight shifting, and looked down at him, although she couldn¡¯t possibly see him in this darkness.


    He chose his words slowly, to be precise. ¡°There¡¯s more than human blood in you.¡±


    ¡°Aoi blood?¡± She sounded stunned.


    ¡°Nay, I know the scent of Aoi blood, and it isn¡¯t that. It¡¯s nothing I recognize.¡±


    ¡°Lady have mercy.¡± She collapsed so hard on top of him that he grunted, all the breath forced out of his chest.


    For a long while he spun in an oblivion of contentment, simply lost track of anything except the actual physical contact between them, her breath on his cheek, her unbound hair spilling over his shoulders, her weight on his hip and chest, the sticky contact of their skin. He might have lain there for the space of ten breaths or a thousand. He simply existed together with her, nothing more, nothing less, they alone in the whole wide world all that mattered.


    She said into the silence: ¡°You still have the book.¡±


    ¡°I do. Did you intend to leave it with me all along?¡±


    ¡°It all happened so fast. I didn¡¯t know what to do.¡± She wiggled to blow on his neck, as if her breath would heal the ring of chafed skin that was now all that remained to remind him of his slavery. ¡°Do you know what is in that book?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°My father was a mathematicus, a sorcerer. I suspect he was thrown out of the church because of it, before he married my mother¡ªwho was also a sorcerer¡ªand they had me. That book contains his compilation of all learning on the art of the mathematici that he could find¡ª¡± She hesitated, again touched the scar at his throat.


    He waited. She seemed to expect something from him.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t trouble you?¡± she demanded finally.


    ¡°Ought it to?¡±


    ¡°That isn¡¯t all.¡± He heard a hint of annoyance in her voice¡ªthat he hadn¡¯t responded as she expected him to¡ªand he grinned. Her eyes sparked in the blackness with a flicker of blue fire. From beyond the curtains he heard snoring, a child¡¯s cough, the restless whining of a dog, and the faint pop of a log shifting on the outdoor hearth fire, banked down for the night. ¡°What Hugh said about me is true. It¡¯s true he wanted me for the knowledge he thought I had, but that wasn¡¯t all. He knew all along. He still knows there¡¯s something more. When we return to court, he won¡¯t give up trying to get me back.¡± Her voice caught. ¡°Do you despise me for what I was to him?¡±


    ¡°Can you possibly believe that after Gent I would judge you? Easier for you to despise me for becoming no better than a dog.¡± He could not help himself. The growl that emerged from his throat came unbidden and unwanted; he could not control this vestige of his time among the dogs, and he hated himself for it.


    ¡°Hush,¡± she said matter-of-factly, pressing her finger to his throat again. ¡°You no longer wear Bloodheart¡¯s slave collar.¡±


    ¡°And you no longer wear Hugh¡¯s,¡± he retorted. ¡°I tire of Hugh. Whatever power he may still have over you, he has none over me.¡±


    ¡°Do you think not? He tried to murder Theophanu!¡±


    He sat up abruptly. ¡°Not so loud,¡± he whispered. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Her education had given her the ability to recount a tale succinctly and with all necessary details intact. She told him now of the incident in the forest where Theophanu had been mistaken for a deer; then, haltingly at first but when he made no horrified reaction more confidently, told him of the vision seen through fire of Theophanu burning with fever and of the panther brooch that Mother Rothgard had proclaimed a ligatura wrought by a maleficus¡ªthat of a sorcerer determined only to advance his own selfish desires.

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    She had slid a little away from him during the telling, although the bed sagged heavily between them. It was easy enough to take hold of her shoulder and gently pull her into him. He could not get enough of the simple touch of her¡ªbut he must pursue this other line of thought, not allow himself to be distracted by her body.


    ¡°If Hugh has practiced sorcery, then what other weapon do I need against him as long as he knows I can make such an accusation? But you must tell me what else you have done, if there is more to tell.¡±


    At once, he felt her pull away from him¡ªnot bodily, but in an intangible way, a sudden retraction of the bond between them. ¡°W-why?¡±


    ¡°So that we can be prepared. So that we can plan our tactics. It isn¡¯t just Hugh¡¯s interest you¡¯ve attracted. Ai, Lord! I have never trusted Wolfhere, though I don¡¯t dislike him.¡±


    ¡°Even after¡ª?¡±


    He smiled. ¡°It is hard to hate a man for a deed you don¡¯t remember and were only told about. He has never attempted to harm me that I recall, only plagued me with his endless accusations about a ¡®crown of stars¡¯ and some kind of unfathomable plot fashioned by my mother and her kin. But now it seems clear why he is interested in you, if it¡¯s true you¡¯re the child of sorcerers. Does he know everything about you?¡±


    ¡°Not everything,¡± she admitted. ¡°I can¡¯t trust him, even though he freed me from Hugh. But I don¡¯t dislike him. Yet whom can I trust? Who will not condemn me for what I am? Who will not call me a maleficus?¡±


    ¡°I will not condemn you.¡±


    ¡°Will you not?¡± she asked bitterly, and she told him about the burning of the palace at Augensburg. ¡°That isn¡¯t all. While riding to Lavas, I burned down a bridge in the same way. I saw the shades of dead elves hunting in the deep forest. I¡¯ve spoken with an Aoi sorcerer, who offered to teach me. I¡¯ve been stalked by daimones. One of them was as beautiful as an angel but a monster nevertheless for having no soul. You could see that in its eyes. It called for me in a terrible voice, but it passed right by and couldn¡¯t see me though I sat in plain sight. I was too terrified to move. Ai, Lady! I don¡¯t know what I am. I don¡¯t know what Da hid from me!¡±


    ¡°Hush.¡± He pressed a finger to her lips to silence her helpless fury. ¡°But Wolfhere is right: You need teaching.¡±


    ¡°Who on this earth will teach such as me without condemning me? Without sending me to the skopos to stand trial as a maleficus?¡±


    ¡°Your mother?¡±


    ¡°Wolfhere wouldn¡¯t tell me where she is. I don¡¯t trust his secrecy.¡±


    ¡°Nor should you.¡±


    ¡°And I don¡¯t know¡ªI just don¡¯t know¡ª It seems so odd for this news to come now, after Da and I struggled so many years alone.¡±


    ¡°Then we must find out who can teach you without condemning you. You¡¯re like a boy who is quick and strong and gifted, who¡¯s taken up a sword but has had no training. He is as likely to hurt himself and his comrades as fell his enemies.¡±


    ¡°Sanglant,¡± she said softly, ¡°why aren¡¯t you afraid of me? Everyone else seems to be!¡± Her hand wandered to splay itself across his left shoulder blade. He became overpoweringly aware of every part of her, all that was soft, all that was hard, pressed against him.


    The absurdity of it made him laugh. ¡°What more can you do to me that you haven¡¯t already done? I am at your mercy. Thank God!¡±


    He literally felt indignation shudder through her. He understood at once that she did not know how to be laughed at. But even after that year among the dogs, he remembered something of the intricate dance eternally played out between female and male. There are places a woman¡¯s indignation can be taken, and he knew how to get there.


    3


    LIATH woke with a strange sensation suffusing her chest and limbs. Sanglant slept beside her, touching her only where an ankle crossed hers, weighting it down. In fact it was too stifling within the curtained bed to press together. She had no cover drawn over her, yet even so, something lay on her so calming that the sweat and stuffy heat did not bother her. It took her a long while, lying completely still so as not to scare it away, to identify what it was.


    Peace.


    Thunder rumbled in the distance. A rooster crowed outside. A flea crawled up her arm and she pinched it between two fingers.


    Sanglant bolted upright, arms raised defensively, and almost hit her as he growled. ¡°I can¡¯t see!¡± he hissed desperately.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t in Gent.¡±


    ¡°Liath?¡± He sounded more astonished than pleased. He groped, caught her, and hugged her against him so tightly that she choked out a breath. ¡°Ai, God! You¡¯re real.¡±

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    ¡°What did you think I was?¡±


    He was weeping. ¡°I dreamed of you so often in Gent, I forgot what was dream and what was real, and then I would wake up. Ai, Lady. That was when it was worst, when I would wake up to discover I was still Bloodheart¡¯s prisoner.¡±


    ¡°Hush,¡± she said, kissing him. ¡°You¡¯re free.¡±


    He only shook his head. He rocked back and forth, unable to keep still, but with her still clasped in his arms. Then, as suddenly as he had begun, he ceased and lifted his face to look at her. Light seeped in where wooden rings fastened the curtain to rods attached to the ceiling; she saw his expression as a gray mask, bewildered, joyous, determined.


    ¡°Make no marriage, Liath,¡± he whispered, echoing words he had said to her a long time ago, before the fall of Gent. Then he smiled. ¡°Unless it be with me.¡±


    ¡°Foolhardy,¡± she murmured.


    ¡°What is?¡±


    ¡°This. Marrying.¡±


    His voice sharpened. ¡°Do you regret it already?¡±


    She laughed. It was spectacularly disconcerting to have this need consume her. She just could not keep her hands off him. ¡°Oh, no. No. Never.¡± It was a different kind of fire, just as intense but more satisfying. He did not try to resist her even knowing that the village woke beyond the curtains as a new day began, but he was far more restrained than she was¡ªalthough now and again he would forget himself and nip.


    They did, finally, have to dress. They could hear Mistress Hilda and her household moving around, hear the soldiers moving restlessly outside the longhouse, talking and joking, although no one dared disturb the two hidden behind the curtains. She was embarrassed when they at last drew the curtains aside. Sanglant did not seem aware of the stares, the whispers, the giggles, the jocular congratulations. He wound up his leggings and laced up his sandals with intense concentration, obviously making plans. He took in a deep draught of air and held it, then shook his head as a dog shakes off water.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± he murmured. ¡°I do not smell his scent here.¡±


    ¡°Whose scent?¡±


    ¡°Bloodheart¡¯s.¡± He belted on his sword. ¡°Bloodheart laid a curse as a protection against any person who sought to kill him. Your hand drew the bow whose arrow struck him down.¡±


    Mistress Hilda bustled over with two cups of cider. As they drained the cups, she surveyed the tangled bedcovers with satisfaction.


    The bite of the cider cleared Liath¡¯s head. ¡°A curse is woven of magic,¡± she said in a low voice, ¡°and Da protected me against magic. It can¡¯t harm me.¡±


    He swore. ¡°Rash words!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t mean them to be! You didn¡¯t see the daimone stalk past me, calling my name and yet not seeing me. That¡¯s not the only time it happened.¡±


    ¡°That you were protected from magic? What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I suppose the way armor protects you from a sword blow. It¡¯s as if I¡¯m invisible to magic.¡±


    He considered this seriously. ¡°Do you remember when Bloodheart died?¡±


    She touched her quiver, propped up against the bed. ¡°How could I forget it? When I first saw you¡ª¡± She broke off, aware that her voice had risen. Everyone had turned to watch them: children, adults, slaves; even the soldiers who had crowded to the door as soon as they heard Sanglant¡¯s voice. It wasn¡¯t every day that such folk got to witness a royal marriage.


    ¡°Ah,¡± said Sanglant, looking embarrassed¡ªbut she had a sudden feeling that it wasn¡¯t their audience that bothered him but the memory of Gent and the bestial condition in which she and Lavastine had found him. He headed for the door, and Liath hurried in his wake, not at all sure where he was going. But he was headed for the three Eika dogs, who barked and scrabbled to reach them as he approached. He cuffed them down, then retrieved the handsome reinforced pouch. Inside she saw The Book of Secrets, but he did not remove it; instead, he pulled out his gold torque, the sign of his royal kinship. He turned.


    ¡°This is all I have to give you. My morning gift to you.¡±


    The assembled audience gasped at the magnificence of the gift, although Liath knew that among the nobility such a piece of jewelry, while very fine in its own right, would be but one among many such gifts¡ªexcept that only women and men born into the royal lineage had the right to wear a torque braided of solid gold.


    ¡°I can¡¯t¡ª¡± she choked.


    ¡°I beg you,¡± he whispered.


    It was all he had.


    She received it from him, then flushed, humiliated. ¡°I have nothing to give you¡ª¡± Nothing but the gifts given to her by Lavastine and Alain the day before, and to hand them over now seemed demeaning, to him, to her, and to the lords who had rewarded her. She glanced toward the waiting soldiers, and inspiration seized her. ¡°But I will have, if you are willing to wait.¡±

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    His laughter came sharp and bright on the morning air. ¡°I have learned to be patient.¡± He sobered, seeing the soldiers waiting, horses saddled, everyone ready to go, and the villagers waiting expectantly. Thunder rumbled again as rain spattered down on the dirt.


    ¡°What do I do, Liath?¡± he muttered. ¡°I¡¯ve nothing to gift them with for their night¡¯s hospitality. I can¡¯t just leave without giving them something. It would be a disgrace to my reputation¡ªand my father¡¯s. Ai, God!¡± He winced, hid the expression, then abruptly unsheathed his knife and pried the jewels off the fine leather case in which he carried the book, muttering under his breath as he did so. ¡°Wolfhere was right. I¡¯ve nothing of my own. Everything comes at my father¡¯s sufferance.¡±


    She didn¡¯t know what to reply. She, too, had nothing¡ªexcept the book, the horse, and her weapons. Yet in truth few people possessed so much. Still, would it have been wiser to go to her mother, who presumably had the means to feed and house and teach her?


    Perhaps.


    But as she watched Sanglant distribute this largesse¡ªand jewels certainly impressed the villagers¡ªshe could not imagine any decision other than the one she had made last night.


    They rode out of Ferse with the wind at their backs only to find that the ferryman wouldn¡¯t take them across the water. So they huddled under the trees while the storm moved through, brief but strong. Rain lashed the ground, pounding dirt into mud. Wind whipped the river into a surface of choppy waves. She used her blanket like a cloak to cover herself while Sanglant walked out in the full force of the rainstorm, heedless of the rain pouring over him. It drenched him until his hair lay slick along his head and his clothes stuck to him in a most inviting fashion. The fresh scar left by his slave collar stood out starkly against his dark skin.


    ¡°You left behind Bloodheart¡¯s collar,¡± she said suddenly.


    He mopped rain from his forehead and flicked a slick mat of hair out of his eyes. ¡°The villagers will make use of it.¡± Then he grinned, the familiar charming smile she had first seen at Gent. At once he began bantering with the soldiers who, like Liath, huddled under the tree in the vain hope of staying dry. He soon had them laughing¡ªeating out of his hand, as Da had once said years ago when they had watched an Andallan captain-at-arms ready his men to march into battle¡ªand the delay passed remarkably swiftly.


    With all the horses, it took six trips to get them over on the ferry, and even then seven of the horses balked at getting on board the rocking ferry and had to be let swim across. Sanglant and two of the soldiers stripped to go in with the horses, and Liath had to look away with her face burning while she listened to their companions, now unable to restrain themselves, making jests about wedding nights and ¡°riding¡± and other coarse jokes.


    ¡°I pray you,¡± said Sanglant sternly when he rejoined them, ¡°do not make light of the marriage bed, or my bride, who will have a difficult enough time at the king¡¯s court as it is.¡± They looked a little shamefaced, but he soon pried them out of it by asking each man about his home and family and what battles he had fought in.


    Mud and a second squall made for slow going, and Sanglant seemed in no hurry to return. Nor was she. The farther they rode the more nervous she got. But nevertheless they came within sight of Werlida by midafternoon. Even from the road beneath the ramparts it seemed a veritable hive of activity¡ªmore so than when she had left.


    At the gates, guards greeted them. ¡°Prince Sanglant, you have returned!¡± They looked relieved.


    ¡°What¡¯s all this?¡± Sanglant gestured toward the lower enclosure, which was bustling with movement. Just ahead a herd of squealing pigs had been confined in a fenced enclosure from which they were now being removed one by one to be slaughtered.


    ¡°They rode in not one hour before you, my lord prince!¡± exclaimed the guards.


    ¡°Who did?¡±


    A horn blasted from the road behind, and two dozen riders wearing the sigil of a hawk galloped up behind them, looking irritated to be kept waiting¡ªuntil they recognized the prince.


    Sanglant began to laugh. ¡°Lady Fortune is with us this day. My father will be far too busy to remember me!¡±


    The hawk: symbol of the duchy of Wayland.


    Duke Conrad had arrived at last.


    4


    DUKE Conrad had arrived at last.


    King Henry was in a foul mood, furious about Sanglant¡¯s disappearance. Rosvita feared it would bode ill for Conrad when Henry, upon being told the news that the duke of Wayland would arrive soon after Nones, smiled grimly. He went at once to pray and refused to break his fast at midday, since it was his habit to honor God in this way before wearing the crown.

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    ¡°Will there be some kind of ceremony?¡± asked young Brother Constantine, who had only seen the king crowned and robed in splendor once, at Quedlinhame.


    Brother Fortunatus shook his head. ¡°He means to show his displeasure by meeting Conrad in full royal dignity.¡± He clicked his tongue softly. ¡°Poor Conrad.¡±


    ¡°Poor Conrad!¡± objected Sister Amabilia. ¡°Do you suppose Duke Conrad is a fool? I don¡¯t think he is.¡±


    And indeed, Conrad the Black was no fool. He rode in at the head of a magnificent procession, befitting his dignity and his rank, and beside him in the place of honor¡ªand on a very fine white mare¡ªrode Princess Theophanu fitted out in equally fine clothing, obviously a gift from him. She looked at her ease, handsome, vigorous, and elegant in her composure¡ªthank God!


    Only now, seeing her, did Rosvita realize how deeply she had missed her composed and sometimes ironic presence over the past months.


    Because of the uproar surrounding Sanglant, Rosvita had only that morning discovered among the capitularies sent from the schola the letter from Mother Rothgard and its terrifying contents: malefici¡ªmalevolent sorcerers¡ªlurking in the court! Mother Rothgard named no names, and perhaps knew none since she had written the letter while Theophanu was still gravely ill, but Rosvita had recognized the panther brooch sketched onto the parchment. Only the margraviate of Austra and Olsatia displayed a panther as part of its sigil.


    ¡°This is a matter for the church,¡± Mother Rothgard had written after detailing her suspicions and what manner of instruments and bindings a maleficus would have hidden about her person. ¡°Speak to no one until my representative, a certain Sister Anne whose integrity and knowledge are irreproachable, reaches you. Without her aid, and with no experience in these matters, you will not be able to defeat the maleficus, and will indeed be at her mercy. Once you have the support of Sister Anne, then together you must decide what action to take, if indeed you can flush the maleficus from its lair. This is not a matter for the king¡¯s justice.¡±


    She dared not show the letter even to Amabilia or Fortunatus. Now she had to wait until the audience had finished, when she could hope to speak privately with Theophanu.


    The king received Duke Conrad in kingly state, crowned, with scepter in hand and his entire court in attendance. The yard in front of the great hall was mobbed with people; the king had had his throne brought outside and raised up on a hastily-built platform. To his right sat Princess Sapientia, the only person so honored among the company.


    Into this assembly Duke Conrad rode with all the pride of a prince born into the royal kinship. He had a nobleman¡¯s seat on a horse, easy and natural, and a soldier¡¯s broad shoulders and tough hands. He was a good-looking man, striking in appearance, with all the vitality of a man in his prime¡ªhe was not over thirty years of age. Conrad¡¯s dark complexion and black hair were indeed startling, but he had keen blue eyes and a wicked grin, which he used now to swift effect on Princess Theophanu as they halted before the king. Rosvita found him rather more to her taste than young Baldwin, who was all beauty and no stature. A servant supported his foot as he dismounted. He himself assisted Theophanu to dismount.


    ¡°Your Majesty.¡± He did not kneel. After all, he wore the gold torque¡ªin handsome contrast to his smoky-brown complexion¡ªaround his neck to mark his royal kinship. ¡°I give you greetings, cousin, and I bring these gifts to honor you, and I bring as well your daughter, who has ridden beside me from St. Valeria Convent.¡±


    Henry gestured to a servant, and a chair was squeezed in to the left of his throne. Theophanu climbed the two steps to the platform and knelt before her father to receive his blessing and his kiss. Then, coolly, she kissed Sapientia on either cheek, and sat down. She had not changed in outward appearance, except perhaps for a flush in her cheeks when she glanced at Conrad; after that, she kept her gaze fixed on the horizon where forest met sky in a haze. Seeing her so healthy, it was hard to believe that she had almost died at St. Valeria Convent of a fever brought upon her by magic most foul. Yet Mother Rothgard had no reason to lie.


    Conrad waited until she was seated, then made a sign to his retinue. Servants came forward with boxes and chests. The display took some time, all of it artfully handled with clasps undone, cloth unwrapped and wafted aside, fine tapestries unrolled to reveal more precious treasures inside. Conrad had not stinted in his offerings: carved ivory plaques; gold vessels; a dozen finely-crafted saddles; glass pitchers packed in wood shavings; tiny cloisonne pots filled with spices; silver basins so cunningly worked that entire scenes from old tales could be read on their sides; and two delightful creatures he called monkeys that chittered excitedly and gamboled in a large cage.

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    Henry regarded this munificence without expression. When Conrad had finished, Henry merely raised a hand for silence. The assembly, whispering and jostling the better to see, quieted expectantly.


    ¡°Is this how you hope to expiate your treachery?¡±


    Conrad¡¯s nostrils flared, and his shoulders stiffened. ¡°I didn¡¯t join Sabella!¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t join me!¡±


    He regained his composure. ¡°Yet I am here now, cousin.¡±


    ¡°So you are. What am I to make of your appearance? Why did you turn my Eagle back at your border, in the Alfar Mountains? Why have you troubled my brother Benedict and Queen Marozia of Karrone with your disputes? Why did you not support me against the Eika, and against Sabella¡¯s unlawful rebellion against my authority?¡±


    For an instant Rosvita thought Conrad would turn around right then, mount, and ride off in a rage. Unexpectedly, Father Hugh stepped forward from his place in the front ranks, near Sapientia¡¯s chair, and placed himself between the two men.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± he began, ¡°let me with these poor words humbly beg you and your noble cousin to feast together, for as the blessed Daisan once said, ¡®The measure you give is the measure you will receive.¡¯ Greet your kin with wine and food. It is better to enter into a dispute on a full stomach than an empty one, for a hungry woman will feed on angry words while she who has eaten of the feast provided by God will know how to set aside anger for conciliation.¡±


    He was right, of course. She took a step forward to add her voice to his.


    ¡°What better conciliation,¡± said Conrad suddenly, ¡°than a betrothal feast? Give us only your blessing, cousin, and your daughter Theophanu and I will speak our consent to be wed.¡±


    Henry rose slowly. Rosvita caught in her breath and waited. Rashly suggested! What did Conrad hope to gain from such bluntness?


    But Henry said nothing of marriage. He descended the steps with kingly dignity and raised an arm to clasp Conrad¡¯s in cousinly affection. ¡°The news came to us only two days ago, and it was received with many tears. Let us have peace between us, cousin, while we mourn the passing of Lady Eadgifu.¡±


    Conrad wept manfully, and with evident sincerity. ¡°We must put our trust in God, They who rule over all things. She was the best of women.¡±


    Now many sighs and groans arose from the assembly, both from those who had known the Lady Eadgifu and those whose hearts were touched by the sorrow shown by duke and king. Rosvita could not help but shed a few tears, although she had met the Alban princess on only three occasions, and mostly remembered her because her fair hair and ivory-light skin had contrasted handsomely with the black hair and dusky complexion of her husband; on first arriving from Alba, Eadgifu had spoken Wendish poorly and therefore refrained from speaking much except to her Alban retinue.


    One woman among the assembly was not weeping: Theophanu. She had lowered her gaze but under those heavy, dark lids¡ªso like Queen Sophia¡¯s¡ªshe examined Father Hugh. Her expression had the placid innocence of a holy mosaic, pieced together out of colored stone, and not even Rosvita, who knew her as well as anyone, could tell what she was thinking. Did she want to marry Conrad? Did she still hoard her infatuation for Father Hugh? Did she know the name of the maleficus who had tried to kill her?


    Hugh had taken a book of forbidden magic from the young Eagle, Liath. Was it only coincidence that the unnamed magus had attempted to sicken Theophanu through the agency of a ligatura woven into a brooch shaped as a panther?


    ¡°Make way! Make way!¡±


    Henry dropped Conrad¡¯s arm as a small procession appeared. Everyone began to talk at once, pointing and whispering. The king stepped back up onto the first of the two steps that mounted the platform, but there he paused, waiting, and Duke Conrad turned and with a surprised expression moved aside to make room.


    ¡°Your Majesty.¡± Prince Sanglant pulled up his horse at a respectful distance from the throne. He looked travel-worn and unkempt with his rich tunic damp from rain and his hair uncombed, but by some indefinable air he wore as always the mantle of authority. But the Eika dogs that trailed at his heels reminded everyone of what he had been¡ªand what he still harbored within himself. He made a sign, and his escort of a dozen soldiers and two servingmen turned aside and dismounted.


    There was one other person with them: a dark young woman with a regal air and a look of tense hauteur, held distant from the crowd that surrounded her. It took Rosvita a moment to recognize her, although it should not have. What on God¡¯s earth was the Eagle¡ªas good as banished yesterday together with Wolfhere¡ªdoing with him? Or was she still an Eagle? She no longer wore badge or cloak, although she rode a very fine gray gelding.

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    Prince Sanglant was not a subtle man. Liath glanced toward him, and he reached to touch her on the elbow. The glance, the movement, the touch: these spoke as eloquently as words.


    ¡°What means this?¡± demanded Henry.


    But every soul there knew what it meant: Sanglant, the obedient son, had defied his father.


    Rosvita knew well the signs of Henry¡¯s wrath; he wore them now: the tic in his upper lip, the stark lightning glare in his eyes, the threatening way he rested his royal staff on his forearm as if in preparation for a sharp blow. She stepped forward in the hope of turning his anger aside, but Hugh had already moved to place himself before the king.


    ¡°I beg you, Your Majesty.¡± His expression was smooth but his hands were trembling. ¡°She no longer wears the Eagle¡¯s badge that marks her as in your service. Therefore, she is now by right¡ªand your judgment¡ªmy slave.¡±


    ¡°She is my wife,¡± said Sanglant suddenly. His hoarse tenor, accustomed to the battlefield, carried easily over the noise of the throng. Everyone burst into exclamations at once, and after a furious but short-lived uproar, the assembly like a huge beast quieted, the better to hear. Even the king¡¯s favorite poet or a juggling troupe from Aosta did not provide as thrilling an entertainment as this.


    The prince dismounted and everyone stared as he hammered an iron stake into the ground and staked down the dogs. From their savage presence all shrank back as the prince walked forward to stand before his father. Clouds covered the sun, and rain spattered the crowd, enough to keep the dust down and to wet tongues made dry by anticipation.


    ¡°She is my wife,¡± Sanglant repeated, ¡°by mutual consent, witnessed by these soldiers and a freewoman of Ferse village, and made legal and binding by the act of consummation and by the exchange of morning gifts.¡±


    ¡°¡®Let the children be satisfied first,¡¯¡± said Hugh in a low, furious voice. She had never before seen him lose his composure, but he was shaking visibly now, flushed and agitated. ¡°¡®It is not fair to take the children¡¯s bread and throw it to the dogs.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Hugh,¡± warned his mother from her place near the king.


    Abruptly, Liath replied in a bold and angry voice. ¡°¡®Even the dogs under the table eat the children¡¯s scraps.¡¯¡±


    Hugh looked as if he had been slapped. He bolted toward her. That fast, and more smoothly than Rosvita believed possible, Sanglant stepped between them, and Hugh actually bumped up against him. But to go around the prince would be to make a fool of himself. Even so he hesitated, as if actually contemplating fighting it out hand to hand, the gracious cleric and the half-wild prince.


    ¡°I did not give my permission for you to marry,¡± said Henry.


    ¡°I did not ask permission to marry, nor need I do so, since I am of age, and of free birth.¡±


    ¡°She is not free,¡± retorted Hugh, recovering his composure so completely that she might have dreamed that flash of rage. ¡°She is either in the king¡¯s service, and thus needs his permission to marry, or she is my slave. As a slave, she has no right to marry a man of free birth¡ªmuch less, my lord prince,¡± he added, with a humble bow, ¡°a man of your exalted rank and birth.¡± He turned back to the king. ¡°Yet I would not dare to pass judgment when we must bow before your wisdom, Your Majesty.¡±


    ¡°I gave her a choice.¡± Henry gestured toward the young woman. ¡°Did I not give that choice, Eagle? Have you forsaken my service and thus rebelled against my rightful authority?¡±


    She blanched.


    ¡°Let me speak,¡± said Sanglant.


    ¡°Sanglant,¡± she murmured, as softly as a person caught in the whirlpool whispers with her last breath before she goes under. ¡°Do not¡ª¡±


    ¡°Sanglant.¡± The king uttered his name with that same tone of warning with which Margrave Judith had moments before spoken her own son¡¯s name.


    ¡°I will speak! The blessed Daisan said that it is not the things that go into a man from outside that defile him but the things that come out of him that defile him. Look upon him, whom you all admire and love, who is charming and elegant and handsome. Yet out of this man¡¯s heart come evil thoughts, acts of fornication forced upon a helpless woman, theft, murder, ruthless greed and malice, fraud, indecency for a man sworn to the church to cohabit with a woman, envy, slander, arrogance¡ªand with his hands and his fine manners he has blinded you all with sorcery¡ª¡±


    Theophanu started up out of her chair.


    Margrave Judith strode forward, flushed with anger. ¡°I will not stand by quietly while my son is insulted and abused¡ª¡±

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    ¡°Silence!¡± roared the king. ¡°How dare you question my judgment in this way, Sanglant!¡±


    ¡°Nay, Your Majesty,¡± said Hugh with humble amiability, grave and patient. ¡°Let him speak. Everything Prince Sanglant says is true, for I am sure that he hates lying and loves me. Who among us is worthy? I know only too well that I am a sinner. None censures me more than I do myself, for I have often failed in my service toward my king, and toward God.¡±


    Did Hugh say one thing more to Sanglant? His lips moved, but Rosvita could not hear¡ª


    Sanglant growled in rage and struck in fury: He hit the unresisting Hugh so hard backhanded that Hugh crumpled to the ground, teeth cracking, and before anyone else could move Sanglant dove for him like a dog leaping for the kill. The Eika dogs went wild, yammering and tugging on their chains as they dragged the stake out of the dirt and bolted forward.


    People screamed and stumbled back. Liath flung herself off her horse and grabbed for the chains, getting brief hold of the stake before it was yanked out of her hands. Rosvita was too shocked to move while all around her the court scattered¡ªall but Judith, who unsheathed her knife to defend her son. All but the king himself, who bellowed Sanglant¡¯s name and jumped forward to grab him by the back of the tunic to haul him off Hugh.


    The dogs hit Henry with the full force of their charge.


    Rosvita shrieked. She heard it as from a distance, unaware she could utter such a terrible sound. Someone tugged frantically at her robe. Sanglant beat back the dogs in a frenzy, away from his father, and behind him Liath shouted a warning to Villam¡ªwho had dashed forward to the king¡ªwhile she scrabbled in the dirt for the hammer and grasped the stake, trying to drag back on the chains. Lions charged in. They clubbed down the dogs, braved their fierce jaws to grab their legs and drag them off the king, and hacked at them mercilessly until blood spattered the ground like rain.


    Pity stabbed briefly, vanished as Sanglant emerged from the maelstrom with Henry supported in his arms. Ai, God! The king was injured! She hurried to his side, vaguely aware of three attendants pressed close behind her: her clerics, who had not deserted her.


    Sanglant thrust Henry into the arms of the princesses and plunged back in the fray.


    ¡°Down!¡± His voice rang out above everything else. ¡°Hold! Withdraw!¡±


    The Lions obeyed. How could they not? The prince knew how to command in battle. They withdrew cautiously, and he knelt beside the dogs.


    Rosvita knelt beside the king, who had a weeping tear in his left arm, cloth mangled and stained with saliva and blood, threads shredded into skin. Claws had ripped the tunic along his back, too, but mercifully the thick royal robe had protected him from all but a shallow scratch. He shook off the shock of the impact and pushed himself upright. ¡°Your Majesty!¡± she protested.


    ¡°Nay!¡± He shook off all who ran to assist him, even his daughters, as he limped forward.


    ¡°Your Majesty!¡± cried Villam, and a dozen others, as he approached Sanglant and the dogs, but he did not heed them.


    One of the dogs was dead. As Henry halted beside him, Sanglant took out his knife and cut the throat of the second, so badly hacked that it could not possibly survive. The third whimpered softly and rolled to bare its throat to the prince. He stared into its yellow eyes. Blood dripped from its fangs; dust and the vile greenish blood born of its own foul body smeared its iron-gray coat.


    ¡°Kill it,¡± said Henry in a voice made dull by rage.


    Sanglant looked up at him, glanced at Liath, who stood holding the iron stake in a bloodied hand ¡­ then sheathed the knife.


    The shock of Sanglant¡¯s defiance hit Henry harder than the dogs had. He staggered, caught himself on Villam, who got under his arm just in time to steady him. Rosvita¡¯s mind seemed to be working at a pace so sluggish that not until this moment did she register Father Hugh, who had somehow gotten out of range and now, supported by his mother, spit bits of tooth onto the ground. Blood stained his lips, and his right cheek had the red bloom of a terrible bruise making ready to flower.


    ¡°I will retire to my chamber,¡± said Henry, so far gone in wrath that all the heat had boiled off to make a fearsomely cold rage beneath. ¡°There, he will be brought to meet my judgment.¡±


    Villam helped him away. Servingmen swarmed around them.


    Rosvita knew she ought to follow, but she could not make her legs work. She stared at the assembly as they parted to make way for the king, dissolved into their constituent groups to slip away and plot in private over the upheaval sure to follow. Images caught and burned into her mind: Duke Conrad staying Princess Theophanu with a hand lightly touching her elbow, a comment exchanged, the shake of her head in negation, his eyes narrowing as he frowned and stepped back from her to let her by when she walked after her father; Sapientia flushed red with anger and humiliation, taking the arm of her young Eagle and turning deliberately away from Hugh as if to make clear that he had fallen into disfavor; Judith with her lips pressed tight in a foreboding glower; Ivar trying to break through the crowd to get to Liath but being hopelessly caught up in the tide that washed him away from her and then held back bodily by young Baldwin.

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    ¡°Sister!¡± whispered Amabilia. Fortunatus had hold of her right arm, whether to support her or himself she could not tell. Constantine wept quietly. ¡°Come, Sister, let us withdraw.¡±


    Everyone, eddying, swirled away to leave at last several dozen soldiers, two dead dogs and an injured one, the bride, and the prince amid a spray of blood. Left alone, abandoned even by those who had championed him before.


    This was the price of the king¡¯s displeasure.


    V


    THE GENTLE BREATH OF GOD


    1


    IN an odd way, the disaster only made her more stubbornly resolute. She stood beside one of the dead dogs, and as its copperish blood leached away into the dirt, she felt a desperate obstinance swell in her heart as if the creature¡¯s heart¡¯s blood, soaking into the earth, made a transference of substance up through her feet to harden her own.


    She was not going to let the king take Sanglant away from her.


    Sanglant looked to see if anyone remained. It was worse even than she expected: everyone had abandoned them except for a dozen Lions and the soldiers who had escorted them from Ferse.


    Now the captain of these men stepped forward. ¡°My lord prince. We will gladly help you with the dogs. Then we must take you before the king, at his order.¡±


    ¡°Bury them,¡± said Sanglant. ¡°I doubt if they¡¯ll burn.¡± He got his arms under the injured dog, hoisted it, and lugged it to the chamber set aside for his use. Lions fanned out to give him room to walk. The courtyard had emptied except for servants, who whispered, staring, and fluttered away. Dust spun around the corners of buildings. She smelled pork roasting over fires. A sheep bleated. Distant thunder growled and faded.


    ¡°Eagle!¡± whispered one of the Lions as they halted before the door while Sanglant carried the limp dog over the threshold. She recognized her old comrade, Thiadbold; his scar stood stark white against tanned skin. ¡°I beg your pardon!¡±


    ¡°Call me Liath, I beg you, friend.¡± She was desperate for friends. That Sanglant¡¯s own loyal dogs had set upon the king ¡­


    ¡°Liath,¡± Thiadbold glanced toward the door, which still yawned open. From within she heard Sanglant grunt as he got the dog down to the floor. ¡°We Lions have not forgotten. If there is aught we can do to aid you, we will, as long as it does not go against our oath to the king.¡±


    Tears stung at his unexpected kindness. ¡°I thank you,¡± she said stiffly. ¡°Please see that my horse is stabled, if you will.¡± Then she remembered Ferse and the morning gift. ¡°There is one thing¡­.¡± She had only finished explaining it when Sanglant called to her.


    The Lion nodded gravely. ¡°It is little enough to do for him.¡±


    She went inside.


    ¡°Have we no servants available to us?¡± Sanglant asked her.


    ¡°Only the soldiers set on guard.¡±


    He knelt beside the dog, which lay silent at the foot of the bed as at the approach of an expected kindness¡ªor of death. It did not move as he ran his hands along its body to probe its injuries: a smashed paw, a slashed foreleg, a deep wound to the ribs and another to the head that had shorn off one ear. Its shallow panting, the grotesque tongue lolling out, was as quiet as a baby¡¯s breath. She had never been this close to an Eika dog before. She shuddered.


    He smiled grimly. ¡°Best that we save this one, since it¡¯s all that remains of my retinue.¡± He drew from the collar the short chain affixed to the leather pouch, now scarred where gems had been pried off. ¡°It guarded your book most faithfully.¡±


    Despite his disgrace, the soldiers had not deserted Sanglant. Their captain, Fulk, brought him water in a basin together with an old cloth which he tore into strips to bind up the dog¡¯s wounds. She tidied her clothing, unbelted sword and quiver and bow and laid them beside the bed with rest of her gear. She dared not approach the king wearing arms. When Sanglant finished with the dog, and she had taken a draught of wine for her parched throat and reminded him to straighten up his own tunic so he should not appear completely disreputable, the soldiers escorted them to the king¡¯s audience chamber. It was not far, because the king had given Sanglant a chamber in one wing of his own residence.


    They found the king seated on a couch with his arm bandaged and his expression severe. Sapientia sat at his right hand, Theophanu at his left. He dismissed all of his attendants except for Helmut Villam, Sister Rosvita, and Hathui. Liath caught a glimpse of Hanna, face drawn tight with fear, before she vanished with the others. A half-dozen stewards remained.


    Liath knelt. But her hands were steady. Sanglant hesitated, but then, slowly, he knelt also: supplicant before the king¡¯s displeasure.

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    ¡°What did Hugh say to you?¡± Henry asked Sanglant in a perfectly collected voice.


    The question surprised her, but Sanglant got a stubborn look on his face and set his mouth mulishly.


    ¡°What did he say to make you attack him in that way?¡± repeated the king, each word uttered so distinctly that they fell like stones.


    Sanglant shut his eyes. ¡°¡®Do you cover her as a dog covers a bitch?¡¯¡± He croaked out the words, his voice so harsh she could barely understand him. Then he buried his face in his hands in shame. And she burned.


    An unlit candle set on the side table snapped into flame.


    Henry started up in surprise, and Sapientia leaped up beside him and took hold of his elbow, to steady him. Villam murmured a prayer and drew the sign of the Circle at his breast. But Theophanu only glanced at the candle and then nodded to Rosvita, as if to answer a question. Hathui sighed softly from her station behind the king¡¯s couch.


    ¡°What is this, Sanglant?¡± demanded Henry. ¡°A sign of your mother¡¯s blood at last?¡±


    ¡°Merely a trick, learned as a child and then forgotten,¡± said Sanglant without looking at Liath.


    ¡°Nay,¡± Liath said, although her voice shook. ¡°I cannot let you shoulder the burden which is properly mine.¡±


    ¡°Sorcery!¡± hissed Sapientia. ¡°She¡¯s bewitched Hugh. That¡¯s why he¡¯s gone mad for her. Just like she¡¯s bewitched Sanglant.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a fool, sister!¡± retorted Theophanu. ¡°She saved my life. It¡¯s your beloved Hugh who is the maleficus!¡±


    ¡°Hush,¡± said the king. He touched Sapientia on the arm and she let him go at once so that he could walk forward. The injury to his shoulder had not wounded the dignity of his gait. Frozen, Liath dared not move as he stopped in front of her and then circled her as a man does a caged leopard he means to slay. ¡°Have you bewitched my son?¡±


    ¡°Nay, Your Majesty,¡± she stammered, dry-eyed with terror.


    ¡°How can I believe you?¡±


    ¡°She has not¡ª!¡± Sanglant began, head flung back.


    ¡°Silence! Or I will have you thrown out while I conduct this interview in your absence. Now. Speak.¡±


    The king could crush her flat in an instant, with the merest flick of his hand command his soldiers to kill her. ¡°It¡¯s true I know some few of the arts of sorcery, as part of the education my father gave me,¡± she began hesitantly, ¡°but I¡¯m untrained.¡±


    ¡°Hah!¡± said Sapientia as she paced behind Henry¡¯s couch. Sanglant shifted where he knelt, as if he, too, wanted to pace.


    ¡°Go on,¡± said the king without looking toward his daughter. His gaze, fixed so unerringly on Liath, made her wonder if perhaps it wasn¡¯t better just to get that spear through the guts and have done with it.


    ¡°My Da protected me against magic, that¡¯s all. He told me I¡¯d never be a sorcerer.¡± It all sounded very foolish. And dangerous.


    ¡°Her father was a mathematicus,¡± said Rosvita suddenly. Ai, Lady: the voice of doom.


    Henry snorted. ¡°She arrived at my progress an avowed discipla of Wolfhere. It is a plot.¡±


    ¡°Wolfhere didn¡¯t want her to leave,¡± said Sanglant. ¡°He argued against her leaving him, most furiously. He wanted her to stay with him.¡±


    ¡°The better to fool you into taking her with you. And marrying her! A royal prince!¡±


    ¡°Nay, Father. Hear me out.¡± Sanglant did rise now. Sapientia stopped pacing and with flushed cheeks studied her half brother. Theophanu, as cool as ever, had clasped her hands at her belt. Villam looked anxious, and Rosvita, who might be her best ally or her worst enemy, wore a grave expression indeed ¡°Hear me out, I beg you.¡±


    Henry hesitated, fingered the bandage that wrapped his arm. Oddly, he glanced back toward Hathui.


    ¡°I cannot know everything that is in Wolfhere¡¯s mind,¡± Hathui said, as if in response to a spoken question. ¡°I have no doubt he has seen and done much that I have never¡ªand will never¡ªhear about. But I do not think he ever intended Liath for any path but following him¡ªand¡ª¡± She glanced toward Sapientia, who had paused beside the window to run her fingers down the ridges of the closed shutters. ¡°¡ªto free her from Father Hugh.¡±


    Amazingly, Sapientia said nothing, appeared not even to hear the remark except that her tracing faltered, stopped, and began again.


    At last, Henry nodded to Sanglant. ¡°You may speak.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have taken Gent without her aid. She killed Bloodheart.¡±

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    ¡°She? This one?¡±


    ¡°You did not hear the story from Lavastine?¡±


    ¡°She was under his command. What story is there to tell?¡±


    ¡°If you cannot believe me, then let Lavastine come before you and tell the tale.¡±


    ¡°Lavastine was ensorcelled before,¡± began Sapientia. ¡°Why not again¡ª?¡±


    ¡°He and his retinue left this morning,¡± said Henry, cutting her off, ¡°So his tale must be left untold.¡±


    ¡°Count Lavastine has gone?¡± Now Sanglant paced to the door, and back, like a dog caught on a chain. Liath hissed his name softly, but he worried at his knuckles until Henry brought him up short by placing an open hand on his chest and stopping him. ¡°I must ride after him¡ªto warn him¡ª If the curse does not follow her¡ª¡± He faltered, came back to himself, and glanced around the room. ¡°A messenger must be sent. You cannot begin to imagine Bloodheart¡¯s power.¡±


    ¡°It was rumored that he was an enchanter,¡± said Villam.


    Sanglant laughed sourly. ¡°No rumor. I myself witnessed¡ª¡± He swiped at his face as if brushing away a swarm of gnats that no one else could see. ¡°No use telling it. No use recalling it now, what he did to me.¡±


    That quickly, she saw Henry¡¯s face soften. But it was brief. He touched the bandage again, and his mouth set in a grim line. ¡°There is much to explain.¡±


    Sanglant spun, took Liath by the elbow, and pulled her up. She did not want to fight against that pull, but she also did not want to stand rather than kneel before the king. ¡°Only someone with magic could have killed an enchanter as powerful as Bloodheart.¡±


    ¡°Explain yourself.¡±


    ¡°You know yourself he had powers of illusion, that he could make things appear in the air that had no true existence. Or perhaps you didn¡¯t see that. We saw it.¡± He grimaced and turned to look at Liath. ¡°She alone¡ªAi, Lord! Had I only listened to her at Gent, my Dragons would still be alive. But we let them in, we opened the gates, thinking they were our allies.¡±


    ¡°Young Alain spoke of a curse,¡± said Henry, ¡°but I don¡¯t understand what you¡¯re trying to say.¡±


    ¡°He had protected himself against death,¡± Sanglant went on, not hearing the comment. ¡°He had taken his heart out of his own body so that he could not be killed. He protected himself with some kind of grotesque creature that he kept in a chest. He spoke a curse at the end, but whether he released the creature I can¡¯t know. I didn¡¯t see it again. By all these means did Bloodheart protect himself.¡± He turned to gesture toward her, and with that gesture everyone looked at her. ¡°No man or woman acting alone could have killed Bloodheart. But she did.¡±


    The silence made Liath nervous. She stared at the couch, finest linen dyed a blood red and embroidered with a magnificent hunting scene in gold-and-silver thread: Henry, standing in front of her, obscured part of it, but she could see lions grappling with deer, and a stag bounding away in front of three riders while partridges flushed from cover.


    ¡°That is why a messenger must be sent to Count Lavastine,¡± finished Sanglant. ¡°If Bloodheart¡¯s vengeance doesn¡¯t stalk Liath, if she is somehow protected against magic by her father¡¯s spells, then it must be stalking Count Lavastine. Bloodheart¡¯s magic was powerful¡ª¡±


    ¡°Bloodheart is dead,¡± said Henry.


    ¡°Yet no harm can come,¡± said Hathui suddenly, ¡°in sending an Eagle to warn him, even if naught comes of it.¡±


    ¡°It was the hound,¡± said Sanglant. ¡°The hound that died. It smelled of Bloodheart.¡±


    ¡°What must we tell him?¡± asked Hathui. ¡°How does one overcome such a curse?¡±


    Sanglant looked helplessly at Liath, but she could only shrug. In truth, like Henry, she didn¡¯t truly understand what he was talking about: Was this a madness brought on by his captivity, the months in chains he had spent at Bloodheart¡¯s feet? Or was he right? Did some terrible curse stalk her or, thwarted by Da¡¯s magic, stalk Lavastine instead?


    ¡°Send an Eagle,¡± said Henry to Hathui, ¡°telling everything you have learned here. Then return.¡± She nodded and left quickly.


    Henry touched his injured arm, winced¡ªand caught Sanglant wincing at the same time, as if in sympathy, or guilt. Villam helped the king seat himself on the couch. Henry looked tired, but thoughtful.


    ¡°Others have noticed her,¡± Henry said, studying Liath.


    ¡°Never be noticed.¡± Da had been right all along: That way lay ruin. But it was too late now. She could have stayed with the Aoi sorcerer, but she had not. She could have ridden on with Wolfhere, but she had not. She could not undo what, had been done.

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    And she did not want to, not even now.


    ¡°Count Lavastine would have taken her into his retinue, and he is no fool. Even my trusted cleric, Sister Rosvita, has taken an interest in her. No doubt others have as well.¡± Villam coughed, then cleared his throat. ¡°The church is right to control such powers,¡± Henry mused, ¡°yet they exist nevertheless. Given what you have seen, Sanglant ¡­¡± He gestured, and the steward hurried forward with a cup of wine, which the king drank from and then offered, in turn, to his daughters, to Rosvita, and to Villam. ¡°It may have seemed more advantageous to marry a woman connected with sorcery than one who shares a claim to the Aostan throne.¡±


    ¡°Why should I care what advantage she brings me? She saved my life.¡±


    ¡°By killing Bloodheart. You saw the worth of such power as she has.¡±


    ¡°Nay.¡± He flushed, a darker tone in his bronze complexion. In a low voice, he spoke quickly, as if he feared the words would condemn him. ¡°I would have gone mad there in my chains if I hadn¡¯t had my memory of her to sustain me.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± said Villam in the tone of a man who has just seen and understood a miracle. He glanced at Liath, and she flushed, recalling the proposition he had made to her many months ago.


    Henry looked pained, then rested head on hands, as if his head ached. When he looked up, he frowned, brow furrowed ¡°Sanglant, folk of our station do not marry for pleasure or sentiment. That is what concubines are for. We marry for advantage. For alliance.¡±


    ¡°How many times was it made clear to me that I was never to marry? That I could not be allowed to? Why should I have taken such a lesson to heart? She is the one I have married, and I have given my consent and sworn an oath before God. You cannot dissolve that oath.¡±


    ¡°But I can judge whether she is free to marry at all. Father Hugh was right: As my servant, she must have my permission to marry. If she is not my servant, then she is his slave, and thus his to dispose of.¡±


    Sapientia groaned under her breath, like a woman mourning. Theophanu made a movement toward her, as though to comfort her, but Sapientia thrust her away and hid her face with a hand. Quickly, Sister Rosvita hurried over to her.


    ¡°We have not yet spoken of Father Hugh,¡± sad Theophanu in a low voice, ¡°and the accusations I have laid before you Father. I have also brought with me¡ªin writing¡ªMother Rothgard¡¯s testimony.¡±


    ¡°I, too, have a letter from Mother Rothgard,¡± said Rosvita. Sapientia was weeping softly on her shoulder. ¡°Is there not a holy nun in your party, Your Highness?¡± she asked Theophanu ¡°One Sister Anne, by name, who has come to investigate these matters?¡±


    Theophanu blinked, looking confused. ¡°Sister Anne? She came with us from St. Valeria. A very wise and ancient woman devout, and knowledgeable. Incorruptible. But she fell ill on the journey and had to be nursed in a cottage for several days. When she emerged, she always wore a veil because the sun hurt her eyes so. I will send for her.¡±


    ¡°How do we know,¡± sobbed Sapientia, ¡°that it is not this Eagle who is the maleficus? If she has bound a spell onto Hugh¡ª? But her heart wasn¡¯t in it. Even she did not believe her own words. ¡°God have mercy! That he should betray a preference for her, a common-born woman, and in front of everyone, and humiliate me by so doing!¡±


    ¡°Hush, Your Highness,¡± said Rosvita softly. ¡°All will be set right.¡±


    ¡°I am not yet done with these two,¡± said Henry. ¡°But be assured that any accusation of malevolent sorcery in my court will be dealt with harshly should it prove unfounded, and more harshly yet should it prove true. Sanglant.¡± He gestured, and Sanglant knelt beside Liath.


    ¡°Eagle.¡± Liath flinched. The king had so completely recovered his composure that she felt more keenly the power he held over her. What soul, struggling to free itself from the eddy surrounding the dreaded Abyss, does not fear the gentle breath of God? With one puff of air They sweep damned souls irrevocably into the pit. ¡°Liathano, so they call you. What do you have to say for yourself?¡±


    She choked out the words. ¡°I am at your mercy, Your Majesty.¡±


    ¡°So you are. Why did you marry my son?¡±


    She flushed, could look at no one, not even Sanglant, especially not Sanglant, because that would only recall too vividly the night they had passed so sweetly together. Instead, she fixed her gaze on the flagstone floor partly covered with a rug elaborately woven in imperial purple and pale ivory: the eight-pointed Arethousan star. ¡°I¡ªI swear to you, Your Majesty. I gave no thought to advantage. I just¡ª¡± She faltered. ¡°I¡ª¡±

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    ¡°Well,¡± said Villam with a snort of laughter, ¡°I fear me, my good friend Henry, that I see nothing here I have not seen a hundred times before. They are young and they are handsome and they are hungry for that with which the body feeds them.¡±


    ¡°Is it only the young who think in this way, my good friend Helmut?¡± asked Henry with a laugh. ¡°So be it. If there is threat in her beyond the sorcery her father evidently taught her and that others seek to exploit by gaining control of her, I do not see it. But.¡±


    But.


    The word cut like a blade.


    ¡°I will not tolerate my son¡¯s disobedience. Naked he came into the world, and I clothed him. He walked, until I gave him a horse to ride. My captains trained him, and he bore the arms I gifted him with. All that he has came from me, and in his arrogance he has forgotten that.¡±


    ¡°I have not forgotten it.¡± Sanglant said it hoarsely, as if the knowledge pained him¡ªbut his voice always sounded like that.


    ¡°You no longer wear the iron collar set upon you by Bloodheart. Where is the gold torque that marks you as blood of my blood, descendant of the royal line of Wendar and Varre?¡±


    ¡°I will not wear it.¡± At his most stubborn, with high cheekbones in relief, the un-Wendish slant of his nose, the way he held his jaw taut, he was very much the arrogant prince, one born out of an exotic line.


    ¡°You defy me.¡± Henry¡¯s tone made the statement into a question. She heard it as a warning.


    Surely Sanglant understood that it was pointless to set himself against the king? They could not win against the king, who had all the power where they had none.


    ¡°I am no longer a King¡¯s Dragon.¡±


    ¡°Then give me the belt of honor which I myself fastened on you when you were fifteen. Give me the sword that I myself gave into your hands after Gent.¡±


    Villam gasped. Even Sapientia looked up, tears streaking her face. Liath¡¯s throat burned with the bile of defeat. But Sanglant looked grimly satisfied as he lay belt, sheath, and sword at the king¡¯s feet.


    ¡°You are what I make you.¡± Henry¡¯s words rang like a hammer on iron. ¡°You will do as I tell you. I am not unsympathetic to the needs of the flesh, which are manifold. Therefore, keep this woman as your concubine, if you will, but since she, my servant, has not received my permission to wed, then her consent even before witnesses is not valid. I will equip an army, and arm you for this duty, and you will lead this army south to Aosta. When you have restored Princess Adelheid to her throne, you will marry her. I think you will find a queen¡¯s bed more satisfying than that of a magus¡¯ get¡ªno matter how handsome she may be.¡±


    ¡°But what about me, Father?¡± demanded Sapientia, whose tears had dried suddenly.


    ¡°You I will invest as Margrave of Eastfall, so that you may learn to rule yourself.¡±


    She flushed, stung as by a slap in the face, but she did not protest.


    ¡°And what of me, Father?¡± asked Theophanu more quietly. ¡°What of Duke Conrad¡¯s suit?¡±


    Henry snorted. ¡°I do not trust Conrad, and I will not send one of my most valuable treasures into the treasure-house of a man who may harbor his own ambitions.¡±


    ¡°But, Father¡ª¡±


    ¡°No.¡± He cut her off, and she was far too cool to show any emotion, whether relief or anger or despair. ¡°In any case, the church will rule that you are too closely related, with a common ancestor in the¡ª¡± He gestured toward Rosvita.


    ¡°In the seventh degree, if we calculate by the old imperial method. In the fourth degree, if we calculate by the method outlined in an encyclical circulated under the holy rule of our Holy Mother Honoria, who reigned at the Hearth before Clementia, she who is now skopos in Darre.¡±


    ¡°No marriage may be consummated within the fifth degree of relation,¡± said Henry, with satisfaction. ¡°Conrad will not get a bride from my house.¡± The door opened, and Hathui returned, making her bow, but she had hardly gotten inside the door when Henry addressed her: ¡°Eagle, tell Duke Conrad that I will hold audience with him. Now. As for Father Hugh¡ªwell¡ª¡±


    ¡°Send him to the skopos,¡± hissed Sapienta. ¡°I will see him condemned!¡± Then she burst into noisy sobs.


    ¡°Well,¡± continued Henry, ¡°I will have the letters read to me, and I wish to speak with this Sister Anne.¡± He caught sight of Sanglant, still kneeling with mute obstinacy, and frowned. ¡°You will return to your chamber, and you may come before me again when you are ready to beg my forgiveness.¡±


    It was a dismissal. Liath rose. She desperately wanted to rub her aching knees, but dared not. Sanglant hesitated. Was it rebellion? Had he not heard? Henry granted with annoyance, and then the prince rose, glanced once at Liath, once toward his sisters¡ª

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    ¡°Come,¡± said Villam, not without sympathy. ¡°It is time for you to go.¡±


    When they returned to the chamber set aside for Sanglant¡¯s use and the door shut behind them, she simply walked into his arms and stood there for a long while, not wanting to move. He was solid and strong, and she felt as if she could pour all her anger and fire and fear into the cool endless depths of him without ever filling him up. He seemed content simply to stand there, rocking slightly side to side: he was never completely at rest. But she was at rest here, with him¡ªeven in such disgrace. She had lived on the fringe of society for so long, she and Da, that she could scarcely feel she had lost something precious to her.


    Yet what if he decided that a queen¡¯s bed was more satisfying than the one he shared with her?


    The Eika dog whined weakly, then collapsed back to lick a paw with its dry tongue. Sanglant released her, took water from the basin, and knelt so the poor beast could lap from his palms. Someone had put up the shutters, and the comers of the room lay dim with shadows. Light shone in lines through the shutters, striping the floor and the dog and the prince and a strange creature concocted of metal that lay slumped over the back of the only chair. Standing, he wiped his hands on his leggings and said, suddenly:


    ¡°What¡¯s this? It¡¯s a coat of mail!¡± He ran his fingers over coarse iron links. ¡°A quilted coat. A helm. Lord Above! A good stout spear. A sword. A sheath.¡± And a teardrop shield, without marking or color: suitable for a cavalryman. He hoisted it up and slipped his left arm through the straps, testing weight and balance. He unsheathed the sword.


    ¡°Ai, Lady!¡± she murmured, staring at these riches. It was far more than what she had asked Thiadbold for: she had asked only for a sword and helmet.


    ¡°But what is it?¡± he asked.


    She found Master Hosel¡¯s belt among her gear and slid the sheath onto it, then with her own hands fastened the belt about Sanglant¡¯s hips as she swallowed tears brought on by the generosity of the Lions. ¡°It¡¯s your morning gift.¡± She tied off the belt and stood back, remembering what Lavastine had said. ¡°¡®If you walk through fire, the flame shall not consume you.¡¯¡±


    He gave a curt laugh. ¡°Let them declare we are not wed, if they will, but God have witnessed our oath, and God will honor our pledge.¡± Taking her face between his hands, he kissed her on the forehead.


    There were two unlit candles in this chamber; both of them flared abruptly to life, and he laughed, swung her up and around, and they landed on the bed in a breathless heap. It was a measure of his disgrace that, even in the late afternoon with preparations for a feast underway and the palace swarming with servants and nobles and hangers-on, no one disturbed them.


    Afterward, he lay beside her with a leg flung over her buttocks, head turned away as he examined the sword, good, strong iron meant for war, not show. ¡°Where did it all come from?¡±


    ¡°The Lions felt they owed me a favor, but they respect you even more than they felt grateful to me. This is a tribute to you¡ªand to your reputation.¡±


    He rolled up to sit, rubbing his forehead with one hand. ¡°If I have not destroyed it entirely now.¡± He drew his knees up and pounded his head against them, too restless to sit still. ¡°Why didn¡¯t I see it before? There¡¯s no trace of Bloodheart¡¯s scent around you. There never has been. Yet it attacked Lavastine¡¯s hounds. It can¡¯t have been an adder¡ªyet if it were only an adder, if I mistook the scent ¡­¡± From the floor, the dog whimpered restlessly and tried to stand, but had not the strength. Sanglant tugged at his own hair, twining it into a single thick strand so tightly that it strained at his scalp, and then shaking it out. ¡°No Eagle can do my message justice. No Eagle knows Bloodheart¡¯s scent, or can listen for it in the bushes. I must go after him myself.¡±


    ¡°Hush. Of course you must. But I¡¯ll ride with you.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t leave you here alone!¡± he said indignantly. Then he groaned and shut his eyes in despair. ¡°But I have no horse except on my father¡¯s sufferance. I wish he had invested me as margrave of Eastfall and let Sapientia march to Aosta! Then we could have been left in peace!¡±


    ¡°If there can be peace in the marchlands, with bandits and Quman raiders.¡±


    ¡°If there is peace in my heart, then I will be at peace no matter what troubles come my way.¡± He buried his face against her neck.


    The dog whined. She heard voices. Sanglant grabbed for her tunic, and the door slammed open to admit¡ª


    ¡°Conrad!¡± exclaimed Sanglant. He jumped out of bed and stood there stark naked in the middle of the floor. ¡°Well met, cousin. I could not greet you earlier as you deserved.¡± She could not help but admire his insouciance¡ªand his backside¡ªeven as she scrambled to get her clothes on under the covers.

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    The man who had just entered dismissed his servants. He had a deep, resonant laugh, and a voice to go with it. ¡°Is this the greeting I deserve? I beg your pardon, cousin.¡± But he did not seem inclined to leave. Liath was furiously embarrassed; after eight years alone with Da, she was not used to a constant audience¡ªalthough Sanglant clearly was. ¡°You have a bride hidden in here somewhere, I hear. I caught a glimpse of her when you rode in, and I confess myself eager to be introduced to her now.¡±


    Sanglant took his time getting dressed and did not move out of the other man¡¯s way. ¡°Let there be no confusion. She is my wife.¡±


    ¡°Did I say otherwise? Surely, cousin, you do not think I intend to steal her from you as I might if she were only your concubine. Ah, but what¡¯s this?¡±


    She slipped out of bed, straightened her tunic, and stood. Duke Conrad, in the flesh, was rather like Sanglant made shorter and broader. He had the same kind of leashed vigor as Henry, and the powerful hands of a man who is used to gripping spear and shield. He stepped forward, took her hand, and turned it over to show the lighter palm, then held it against his own. His skin had a different tone; where hers was more golden-brown like sun burned into skin, his had a more olive-yellow tint. ¡°Who are your kin?¡±


    She extricated her hand from his grip. He was barely taller than she was, but she felt slight beside him. ¡°My father¡¯s cousin is the lady of Bodfeld. I don¡¯t know my mother¡¯s kin.¡±


    He misunderstood her. ¡°A Gyptos whore, no doubt. That would explain it. How comes she to you, cousin?¡± He had an open face, quick to laughter.


    ¡°God have brought her to me,¡± retorted Sanglant, looking annoyed.


    ¡°They whom God have joined, let no man or woman¡ªeven the regnant¡ªtear asunder.¡± Quick to anger as well, that face. He boiled with it, a flush staining his neck and the tendons standing out. ¡°Ride out with me, Sanglant. I offer you a place in Wayland.¡±


    ¡°Ride out with you?¡±


    Conrad spat in anger. ¡°Henry refused my suit. He will not let me marry Theophanu.¡± He swore colorfully, describing what Henry could in his opinion do with his horses and his hounds and whatever sheep he might come across in the course of his travels. Liath blushed. ¡°I see no reason to stay feasting and drinking with a man who does not trust me to marry his own daughter! What do you say?¡±


    ¡°What kind of place? As a captain in your retinue?¡±


    Conrad grinned, but with a subtle coating to it, cunning and sweet. ¡°Nay, cousin. You have too fierce a reputation and I am far too respectful of your rank. I have certain lands that came to me in a recent dispute that I can settle on someone willing to support me, even against the king¡¯s displeasure.¡±


    ¡°I will not make war upon my father,¡± said Sanglant stubbornly.


    The door was still open. Conrad signed to his servants to shut it. ¡°I do not speak of war, not with Henry. Even were I tempted, I don¡¯t have enough support.¡±


    The ¡°yet¡± might as well have been spoken out loud, it hung so heavily in the air.


    ¡°I will not make war upon my father,¡± repeated Sanglant.


    ¡°Nor do I ask you to.¡± Conrad grunted impatiently. ¡°I ride out in the morning. You and your bride may ride with me, or not. As you wish.¡± He looked Liath over once, in the way of a powerful man who has bedded many women and intends to bed many more, and when Sanglant growled low in his throat, he laughed. ¡°So I heard, but I didn¡¯t believe it. Is it true that you lived for a year among dogs, my lord prince?¡± He raised an eyebrow, seeing Sanglant¡¯s anger. ¡°Yet the dogs are scarcely different than the nobles who flock ¡¯round the throne, are they not?¡±


    With that, he signed to his servant to open the door, and swept out. The hard glare of the afternoon sun lanced into Liath¡¯s eyes, and she had to shade herself with an arm until a Lion latched the door shut from outside.


    Sanglant began to pace, then unfastened one of the shutters and took it down so they could get air into the room.


    ¡°He offered you land,¡± said Liath as she watched him. She dared not think of it: land, an estate, a place to live in peace.


    He turned away from the window to sort impatiently through the contents of his belt pouch, which had fallen to the floor in his haste to undress earlier. He found a comb and with it in his hand steered her to the chair, sat her down, and undid her braid. With a sigh of satisfaction, he began to comb out her hair, which fell to her waist. The strokes soothed her.


    ¡°I don¡¯t trust him,¡± he said as he worked through a knot. ¡°But you are right. He offered me land. He will not contest my marriage to you. And unlike any other soul in this land, he will not care if my father contests it.¡±

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    ¡°Will we ride out with him in the morning?¡±


    ¡°Do we have another choice?¡± But for that question, she had no answer.


    2


    ¡°YOU¡¯VE made a fool of yourself, Hugh.¡±


    Margrave Judith did not mince words when she was angry, and she was very angry now. Ivar huddled in a comer of the spacious chamber reserved for her use, clinging to an equally frightened Baldwin. She had already hit Baldwin once for not getting out of her way quickly enough; his cheek was still pink from the slap. She was so angry that Ivar could not even get any pleasure out of her castigation of Hugh, which she conducted in front of her entire household.


    Not that any of them appeared to be enjoying it either. Her servants and courtiers admired and loved Hugh, who treated high and low alike with graciousness and perfect amiability.


    Now he stood with hands clasped behind him, a bruise purpling on one cheek, and his gaze fixed not on his mother but on a gaudy spray of white-and-pink flowers outside that shielded the open window from the glare of the late afternoon sun.


    ¡°Your conduct has embarrassed me,¡± she continued mercilessly, ¡°and, God help me, may have lost you your influence with Princess Sapientia. Fool! And more fool I for thinking I could raise a son who would not fall prey to his male weakness! What hope does a man have if he betrays a consuming lust for a woman of unknown birth who brings no advantage to his kin and kind? By the amount you desire her, you give her that much power over you.¡±


    ¡°But she has power,¡± he said in a low voice, still flushed. ¡°More power than anyone here knows or suspects. Except Wolfhere.¡±


    ¡°Power! A handsome face is not power. Even grant you that her father was a magus, as they¡¯re all saying now, even grant that magus¡¯ blood has lent her power, then what use is it to you since you have become her prisoner by reason of this unseemly obsession?¡±


    ¡°She is mine,¡± he said with such zeal that cold ran down Ivar¡¯s spine like the fingers of the Enemy, probing toward the heart for weakness.


    ¡°She is Prince Sanglant¡¯s, as is apparent to anyone with eyes not blinded by lust.¡±


    ¡°Never his!¡± He reached out suddenly, broke off a spray of glorious flowers, and began shredding them into bits. Petals spun down around him.


    ¡°Has she bewitched you? Bound some kind of spell onto you? They¡¯re saying that her father was a fallen monastic who dabbled in the black arts as well as in some Jinna whore¡¯s belly, and who paid for his sins by being eaten alive by the minions of the Enemy. It would make sense that she had learned a few tricks from him before he died.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said hoarsely, ¡°she has bewitched me.¡± He clenched both hands. Astonishingly, he began to weep with thwarted fury¡ªjust utterly lost control of himself.


    Liath had done this to him.


    Ivar could not help but exult at Hugh¡¯s humiliation and rage. The Holy Mother had visited this punishment upon him for his arrogance. But when he thought of Liath, a stuttering sickness gripped his heart.


    She had not even noticed him! Not two days ago when she first arrived at the king¡¯s progress, not yesterday when the king had passed judgment by letting her remain his servant, and not today, when she had returned in defiance of the king¡¯s command. By what right did she ignore him, who had done everything he could to help her? Did the love they had pledged each other mean nothing to her? What on God¡¯s earth did Prince Sanglant have that he didn¡¯t¡ª?


    ¡°Hush,¡± said Baldwin, caressing his arm to distract him, though he hadn¡¯t realized that he was grunting and muttering out loud. ¡°Don¡¯t draw attention to us, or she¡¯ll hit me again.¡±


    ¡°How can she love him?¡± Ivar choked out.


    ¡°Of course a mother loves her son.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean¡ª¡±


    Margrave Judith stood up, and both boys instinctively flinched back, but she did not even glance their way. She picked up a fine silver basin filled with water and dashed it full in Hugh¡¯s face.


    ¡°Control yourself!¡± She replaced the basin with perfect composure and sat back down. ¡°I see I am almost too late.¡±


    The shock of it brought him back. Trembling, he wiped his face dry with a sleeve.


    ¡°Kneel before me.¡± Slowly, he did so. ¡°Am I not first in your heart?¡± she asked grimly.


    ¡°You are my mother,¡± he replied in a dull voice.


    ¡°I nurtured you within my body, bore you with great effort, and raised you with care. Is this how you repay my efforts?¡± He began to speak, but she cut him off. ¡°Now you will listen to me. Three years ago I had to agree to have you sent to the North Mark after the incident in Zeitsenburg. You swore to me then there would be no more such incidents, yet I now find you entangled with a girl born of a magus¡¯ breeding. Have you gone against my wishes in this matter? Have you, Hugh?¡±

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    Stubbornly, he did not reply.


    Her hiss, between gritted teeth, gave Ivar a shiver of fear.


    ¡°The court is a bad influence on you! You still bear a personal grudge against the prince, do you not? That he, a bastard, was given power in the secular world and you were not, is that not so, Hugh?¡±


    With one hand he gripped the cloth of his tunic, folded around one knee; the other lay open, pressed against the floorboards palm down to hold himself up. His breath came ragged, and his gaze seemed fixed on something invisible to everyone else in the room. ¡°That she should go willingly to him when she has spurned me¡ª!¡±


    She extended a leg, caught him under the chin with the toe of her sandal, and tipped his head back so that he had to look at her. ¡°You have gone mad with jealousy.¡± She stated it in the same way any noble lady might examine her cattle and see that some were afflicted with hoof-rot: calmly, but with a little disgust at her own bad luck. ¡°Your mind has been afflicted by her spells.¡±


    She lowered her foot and stood. ¡°Go,¡± she said to her courtiers. ¡°Speak of this to the folk hereabouts, what you have heard here¡ªthat the girl has bound him with her evil spells. See how she has reduced him. We all know Father Hugh¡¯s elegant manners. This is no natural state.¡± They scurried away obediently.


    ¡°Go heat a bath for him so that we may wash some of the poison out,¡± she said, and a half dozen servants hurried into the adjoining room. Then she turned to her entourage. ¡°Lord Atto, I haven¡¯t forgotten the matter of the king¡¯s stallion, Potentis. I have spoken with the king myself, and if that bay mare of yours comes into season while we are on progress with the king, you may try for a foal out of Potentis. Go speak with the king¡¯s stablemaster, if you will, to arrange it.¡±


    Lord Atto was all effusive thanks as he retreated, but Judith had already beckoned forward one of her servingwomen. ¡°Hemma, I have considered this matter of your daughter¡¯s betrothal, and I think it a good match for her to wed Minister Oda¡¯s son. But I have it in mind to gift her with that length of fine linen cloth we picked up in Quedlinhame. If you will see to it that it is packed and made ready, I will have it sent with the messengers who are returning east. Then your daughter will have time to sew some clothing out of it for the wedding feast.¡±


    With one pretext or another, she sent them away until only she, Hugh, her two eldest servingwomen, and Baldwin and Ivar remained. Her pleasant manner vanished, and she spoke in a hard voice. ¡°Now you will tell me truly what this means.¡± She took Hugh¡¯s chin in a hand and turned his head up to look at her. ¡°I can scarcely believe the rumors I hear. Did you try to murder Princess Theophanu? After it was forbidden you at Zeitsenburg, have you soiled your hands again with bindings and workings, this pollution that you call sorcery?¡±


    The light from the open window dappled Hugh¡¯s face, mottling it with shadow and light and the discoloring bruise. His expression, nakedly anguished, underwent some cataclysmic change as he stared up at his mother, who had bent the full force of her will upon him. A shudder shook through his body and he collapsed at her feet.


    ¡°I beg you, Mother,¡± he whispered. ¡°Forgive me. I have sinned.¡±


    She grunted, but that was all the reply she made, and she seemed to be expecting more.


    ¡°Ai, God,¡± he prayed, ¡°protect me from temptation.¡± His hands hid his face. ¡°I know now what came over me. It was a trap her father laid. As soon as I saw her, I burned for her despite my prayers day upon night offered up to Our Lady and Lord, Whom I begged to protect me. But he bound me and trapped me, and even after he died, I could not escape from her.¡±


    She appeared unmoved by this recital. Ivar could not tell whether she believed it, but it seemed to satisfy her. ¡°You are bored as abbot,¡± she said finally, ¡°and when a man of your intelligence becomes bored, then the Enemy sends his minions to tempt him. And indeed a mere abbacy is not the position due your consequence.¡±


    He looked up, strangely dry-eyed after his weeping confession. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Be obedient to my wishes, Hugh, and you shall have more.¡± She took hold of his ear, twisted it so that one more tweak would cause pain, and with the other hand brushed a finger affectionately over his moist lips and with that same finger touched her own lips, as if sipping off his sweetness. ¡°I have never failed you, Hugh. I have given you everything you have asked me for.¡±


    ¡°You have,¡± he said softly. Hesitated, then fell silent.


    She let go, stepped back, and let him stand. ¡°You will not fail me. Do not see her again, and we can salvage your reputation.¡±

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    He bowed his head humbly. ¡°I am your obedient servant, my lady mother.¡±


    She looked at Baldwin, and Ivar knew with a nauseating wrench in his gut that this was also a message meant for her young husband: Those who lived within the circle of her power were not allowed to be disobedient.


    Baldwin bent his head and abruptly launched into an impassioned prayer. Halfway through, he nudged Ivar with a foot, and Ivar, startled and now seeing Hugh kiss his mother on either cheek and retreat to the room where his bath awaited him, clasped his hands as well and joined the whispered prayer. ¡°Our Mother, Who art in Heaven¡ª¡±


    Seeing them so occupied, Judith left the chamber with her two servants at her heels and a slender whippet slinking behind. No doubt she had decided it was time to venture out onto the field of battle to save her son¡¯s reputation. And what of Liath?


    Ai, Lord. Liath.


    ¡°You¡¯re not concentrating,¡± murmured Baldwin, who sounded insulted.


    ¡°What will become of her?¡± Ivar muttered.


    This time, Baldwin understood him. ¡°Do you desire her body, Ivar?¡± He rested a hand on Ivar¡¯s thigh. His sweet breath, like the breath of angels, brushed softly along his neck.


    Ivar shivered convulsively. ¡°God help me!¡± he prayed. It hurt too much to think of her. It was easier to drown himself in thoughts of God. He set to praying with a vengeance and, after a pause, Baldwin joined him.


    3


    THE king did not summon them to the feast celebrating the return of Theophanu and the arrival of Duke Conrad. No royal steward saw fit to bring them platters of choice tidbits from the feast table. But soldiers brought offerings: bread, baked turnips, roast pork, and greens, such fare as milites could expect and would generously share with a captain they admired and respected and a disgraced Eagle toward whom they had cause to be grateful.


    The twilight hours in summer ran long and leisurely and, as Sanglant braided her hair, Liath listened to the sweet singing of the clerics from the hall as they entertained the king with the hymn celebrating St. Casceil¡¯s Ascension, whose feast day they observed.


    ¡°The holy St. Casceil made a pilgrimage from her home in rain-drenched Alba to the dry desert shores of Sa?s the Younger. There she dwelt in blessed solitude in the east with only a tame lion as companion, and there she knelt to pray day after day under the constant hammer blow of the desert sun while angels fanned her with their wings to cool her brow and body. Yet the heat so burned away her mortal substance, and her holy prayers so inflamed her soul with purity and truth that the wind made by the angels¡¯ wings, which is also the gentle breath of God, lifted her into the heavens. There she found her place among the righteous.¡±


    Braiding the hair he had earlier combed out gave Sanglant something to do with his hands, but he shifted restlessly from one foot to the other, seeming about to start talking but grunting softly instead. She had said everything she knew to say to him. No decision had been reached: Would they ride out with Conrad, or not?


    ¡°My lord prince.¡± Hathui stood at the door. Liath could smell the feast on her. The pungent scent of spices and sauces made Liath¡¯s mouth water.


    He nodded, giving her permission to enter. ¡°Do you bring a message from my father?¡±


    ¡°I come on my own, to speak with my old comrade, Liath, if you will.¡±


    ¡°That is for her to choose, not me to choose for her!¡± he said as he tied off the braid and stepped away from Liath.


    Liath started up when Hanna stepped into the room behind Hathui. The badge winking at the throat of her short summer cloak seemed like accusation. Hanna had given up kinfolk, home, and all that was familiar to her to follow Liath, and yet Liath had turned aside from that jointly-sworn oath to bind her life with Sanglant¡¯s. Hanna had been crying, and Hathui looked solemn.


    ¡°This is¡ªthis is¡ªmy comrade¡ª¡± Liath stuttered, not wanting to ignore Hanna as one would a simple servant, yet not knowing if a prince and a common Eagle could have any ground on which to meet as equals. Ai, Lady! Had she never truly thought of herself as a ¡°common Eagle¡± but rather as an equal to the great princes in some intangible way she had inherited from Da¡¯s manner and education? Had she never truly treated Hanna as an equal, through those years when Hanna had generously offered friendship to a friendless, foreign-born girl?


    She was ashamed.


    ¡°This is the Eagle who serves Sapientia,¡± said Sanglant into the silence made by her stumbling. ¡°She is called Hanna. Did you not know her in Heart¡¯s Rest?¡± He turned his gaze on Hanna. ¡°You called my wife ¡®friend¡¯ there, I believe.¡±

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    ¡°My lord prince,¡± said Hanna, kneeling abruptly. Hathui, with a tight smile, remained standing, but she inclined her head respectfully. Then Hanna saw the Eika dog, and she recoiled, jumping back to stand beside the table.


    ¡°Fear not,¡± said Sanglant. ¡°It doesn¡¯t have enough strength to harm you.¡±


    ¡°Will it live?¡± asked Hathui softly.


    ¡°You may tell my father that I will nurse it as I am able, since it alone of all my possessions did not come to me through his power.¡±


    Her eyes glinted. ¡°Shall I tell him so in those exact words, my lord prince? I would humbly advise against it, while the king remains in such a humor toward you as he is this day.¡±


    ¡°Plainly spoken, Eagle. Say what you came to say to my wife. I will not interfere.¡±


    Hathui nodded and began. ¡°You ought to have ridden on with Wolfhere, Liath. How can you have traveled with the king¡¯s progress for so many months and not seen what a pit of intrigue it is? How will you fare, here, with the king turned against you and the prince without support? What will you say when princes and nobles come to seek your favor, to gain the attention of the prince? There will always be supplicants at your door, and beggars and lepers and every kind of pauper and sick person, seeking healing, and noble ladies and lords who hope that your influence can give them audience with the king or his children¡ªor who wish to sway the prince to their cause, whether it be just or no.¡±


    Like Conrad. Liath picked up the comb that lay on the table. Such a simple thing to be so finely made. With its bone surface incised with a pair of twined dragons and trimmed with ivory and pearls set into the handle at either end, it marked Sanglant as a great prince who need not untangle his hair with sticks or a plain wood comb but only with something fashioned by a master craftsman.


    Hathui went on. ¡°Father Hugh stands accused of sorcery by Princess Theophanu, but if you are called upon to testify before the king against him, how will it fare with you when Margrave Judith¡¯s anger is turned upon you? What if you are accused in your turn of sorcery? The king will never allow you to be recognized as Prince Sanglant¡¯s wife. All that I have named above you will suffer without even the legal standing of wife but only that of concubine. Do you think an Eagle¡¯s oath and freedom¡ªbeholden to no one but the king¡ªa fair exchange for the bed of a prince?¡±


    ¡°Liath,¡± whispered Hanna, ¡°are you sure this is wise?¡±


    ¡°Of course it isn¡¯t wise!¡± she retorted.


    Sanglant stood by the window staring outside. The wind stirred his hair, and the graying light made of his profile¡ªthe arch of the nose, the high cheekbones, the set of his beardless jaw¡ªa proud mask. He made no move to interfere.


    ¡°Of course it isn¡¯t wise,¡± Liath repeated bitterly. ¡°It just is. I won¡¯t leave him. Oh, Hanna. You followed me from Heart¡¯ Rest, and now I¡¯ve deserted you¡ª¡± She grabbed Hanna¡¯s hand and Hanna snorted, still pale, and hugged her suddenly.


    ¡°As if I only took an Eagle¡¯s oaths to follow you! Maybe I wanted to see something more of the world. Maybe I wanted to escape young Johan.¡±


    Liath laughed unsteadily, more like a sob. Hanna¡¯s body felt familiar, and safe, caught against her. ¡°Maybe you did. I¡¯m sorry.


    ¡°I still think you¡¯re being a fool,¡± whispered Hanna. ¡°My mother would never have let any of her children marry because of ¡­ well ¡­¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Hanna spoke so softly that Liath, pressed against her, could barely hear her. ¡°Lust alone. It might be said that you¡¯ve gained advantage by attracting his interest, but you don¡¯t bring anything to him, that would be useful to him¡ª¡±


    Sanglant laughed without turning away from the window, an Hanna blushed furiously. ¡°More use than anyone here can know,¡± he said as if addressing the bushes, ¡°although I confess freely that I am not immune to the weaknesses of the flesh.¡±


    ¡°But no one makes a marriage only for ¡­¡± Hanna stuttered to a halt. ¡°My good mother always said that God made marriage as a useful tool, not as a pleasure bed.¡±


    ¡°Ought we to be good, or useful?¡± asked Hathui sardonically.


    ¡°Ought we to be chattering on like the clerics?¡± retorted Sanglant. ¡°We ought to be seeing that the crops are brought in and that our borders are safe from bandits and raiders, and that our retainers are fed and their children healthy. And that we pray to God to spare us from the howling dogs who nip at our heels.!¡±


    Hanna started back from Liath as if she had been slapped Hathui nodded curtly. ¡°If you wish us to leave, my lord prince.¡±

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    ¡°Nay.¡± He tossed his head impatiently and finally slewed round to look at them. ¡°I did not mean it of you, but of the ladies and lords who flock round the court. I beg you, take no offense from my coarse way of speaking.¡±


    ¡°You are not coarse, my lord, but blunt.¡± Hathui grinned charmingly.


    ¡°Not as eloquent as my wife,¡± he said, with a pride that startled Liath.


    At this moment Liath had more pressing concerns. She tugged on Hanna¡¯s sleeve. ¡°Come with me outside, Hanna, I beg you. I¡¯m not accustomed to¡ªwith so many people about¡ª¡±


    She was in disgrace, not in prison, and while she preferred to use the privies built up over the edge of the ramparts rather than the chamber pot, she dared not venture out alone for fear of meeting Hugh. Hanna seemed more cheerful out of the close chamber, or away from Sanglant. Servants wandering the grounds pointed and whispered.


    ¡°Do you think I¡¯m a fool, Hanna?¡± The constant scrutiny made her uneasy. Her entrance onto the stage as Sanglant¡¯s declared wife had made her a beacon, visible to everyone.


    ¡°Yes. Better to serve him as an Eagle than as his mistress. As an Eagle you are bound to the king by oaths. As his mistress, he can put you aside whenever he tires of you, and then where will you go?¡±


    ¡°Spoken like Wolfhere!¡±


    ¡°Like Wolfhere, indeed!¡± Hanna waited to one side while Liath used the privies, but she started up again as soon as Liath rejoined her. ¡°Wolfhere became an Eagle during King Arnulf¡¯s reign. Everyone knows he was one of Arnulf¡¯s favorites. Then Henry took the throne, and dismissed Wolfhere from court¡ªbut he could not dismiss him from the Eagles! That is the measure of an Eagle¡¯s security.¡±


    ¡°Such as any of us have security,¡± murmured Liath, remembering bones scoured clean on a roadside. She scrambled up the rampart to view the surrounding countryside. Up here the evening wind blew fresh into her face. Below the bluff, the river wound away into darkening forest. Fields patched the nearer ground in narrow strips of lush growth: beans, vetch, and barley. Small figures walked in a village that seemed only a stone¡¯s throw from her position, although she knew it lay much farther away. The morning thunderclouds had long since vanished into the northeast, and the sky was clear with the moon already risen halfway to the zenith. The sun had set, but its glow colored the western sky. Brilliant Somorhas rode low on the horizon; the sky was still too bright to see any but the brightest stars in summer¡¯s sky: the Queen¡¯s sky.


    ¡°Would I be a queen?¡± she murmured, and was then so appalled at the thought of presiding over a court¡ªa pit of intrigue, indeed!¡ªthat she shuddered.


    ¡°Are you cold?¡± Hanna draped a companionable arm over her shoulders. A roar of laughter erupted from the great hall, which lay hidden behind them by chapel tower and stables.


    ¡°It¡¯s only because he can¡¯t rule,¡± said Liath suddenly. ¡°If he¡¯d had any ambition to be king after his father, I couldn¡¯t have endured that!¡±


    Hanna laughed sharply. ¡°If he¡¯d had any ambition to be king he¡¯d never have married you! He¡¯d have married a noblewoman whose kin will support him.¡±


    ¡°I deserved that, I suppose!¡±


    ¡°Maybe he¡¯s right.¡± Hanna¡¯s expression drew taut in an expression of wonder and worry. ¡°You aren¡¯t what you seem, Liath Maybe he¡¯s wiser than the rest of us. They say Aoi blood tunes you to magic just as a poet tunes his lyre before he sings, knowing what sounds sweetest.¡±


    ¡°Is that what they say?¡±


    ¡°Some at court say that Prince Sanglant grew so strange under Eika captivity because the enchantments polluted his mind. That¡¯s why¡ª¡± She broke off, then smiled apologetically. ¡°That¡¯s why he acts like a dog. The dogs became part of him, or he of the dogs, like a spell bound into his body by the Eika chieftain.¡±


    It arrived noiselessly and settled down on a ragged outcropping of rock. At first, Hanna didn¡¯t notice it, but Liath saw the owl immediately.


    She gently shook off Hanna¡¯s arm and took a cautious step forward, then knelt. ¡°Who are you?¡± she asked of the owl. I blinked huge golden eyes but did not move.


    ¡°Liath,¡± whispered Hanna. ¡°Why are you talking to an owl?¡¯


    ¡°It isn¡¯t an ordinary owl.¡± She kept her gaze fixed on the bird. It had ear tufts and a coat of mottled feathers, streaked with white at the breast. It was the largest owl she had ever seen¡ªshe who had spent many a night in silent contemplation of the stars and thus with her keen night vision seen the animals that woke and fed in the night. ¡°Who are you?¡±

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    Its hoot echoed like a warning, ¡°Who? Who?¡± and then it launched itself up from the rock and glided away.


    ¡°Eagle! I did not expect you to be gone for so long.¡± Princes Sapientia appeared with a handful of servingwomen, having just come from the privies.


    ¡°Your Highness!¡± Hanna¡¯s expression betrayed her surprise no less than did her voice.


    ¡°Has she bewitched you, too?¡± demanded Sapientia as Hanna knelt before her. Liath hesitated, then felt it prudent to kneel in her turn. ¡°Made proud by my brother¡¯s attention!¡±


    ¡°I beg your pardon, Your Highness, for being so long away from you,¡± replied Hanna in a calm voice. ¡°We knew each other before we became Eagles. We are almost like kin¡ª¡±


    ¡°But you are not kin.¡±


    ¡°No¡ª¡±


    ¡°You are a good, honest freewoman, Hanna. What she is no one here yet knows.¡±. She beckoned to a pair of guards who had remained respectfully behind. ¡°Bring her.¡±


    ¡°I must return¡ª!¡± Liath began.


    ¡°You must come with me.¡± Sapientia¡¯s eyes gleamed with triumph. ¡°You will not have your way so easily with the rest of us, Eagle!¡±


    ¡°Sanglant.¡± But the wind blew her voice out into the gulf of air beyond the ramparts, where the bluff tumbled down and down to the land below. To fight would only cause more of a scene, as well as make her life immeasurably harder, so she went, and then was sorry she had done so when Sapientia returned directly to the hall. It was swarming with as many of the court who could crowd in, and the rest of their retainers and servants sat at trestle tables outside. With Duke Conrad and Margrave Judith and various local ladies who had ridden in to offer gifts before the king and share in his generosity in return, the king¡¯s progress had blossomed into a field crowded with life, hundreds of folk crammed together all eager to enjoy the night no matter what form their entertainment took. And when Sapientia led her into the great hall, so stuffed with people that it seemed to bulge at the seams, she would have sworn that every gaze turned to scrutinize her. Nausea swept her, washed down by the brush of Hanna¡¯s arm or her elbow, her last¡ªand briefest¡ªreassurance.


    They had all been drinking, of course; it was a feast, and wine flowed freely. But the king rose, seeing her, and she knew at once¡ªbecause she had known the signs intimately in Da¡¯s face¡ªthat he had been drinking hard to drown anger in his heart.


    But he was still the king in dignity and voice.


    ¡°Has my son¡¯s mistress come to pay her respects?¡± he asked, gesturing toward her to make sure any soul in court who had not yet noticed her would notice her now.


    ¡°Or has she simply tired of her new conquest?¡± drawled Margrave Judith, ¡°and thrown him aside as she did my son once she had polluted him with her magics?¡± Her glare was as frightening as that of a guivre, turning Liath to stone. Hugh did not appear to her among the sea of faces, all of them staring, but she was sure he was behind this humiliation.


    ¡°That is not for us to judge, but rather a matter for the church.¡± Yes, Henry was drunk, but coldly angry beneath and able to control himself in his cups far better than Da had ever been able to. But Da had been nothing but a disgraced frater. Henry was king. ¡°Seat her beside me,¡± he continued with that iron gaze, edged like a sword. ¡°Let the royal mistress be given honor as she deserves, who graces my son¡¯s bed.¡± He knew what he was doing. ¡°But not dressed like that! Not dressed like a common Eagle! Has my son not gifted you with clothing fit for your rank?¡±


    He did not mean her to reply; he only meant to remind her of his power, as if she had ever forgotten it.


    Theophanu rose from her seat to the left of her father. A servingwoman hurried forward, and the princess whispered in her ear before turning back to the king. ¡°Your Majesty, I have reason to be beholden to this woman. Let me clothe her in a fitting manner.¡±


    The blow came from an unexpected source. Henry hesitated, but that hesitation gave Theophanu time to gesture peremptorily. Liath slipped out from the circle of Sapientia¡¯s retainers and into the cool but not unfriendly clime of Theophanu¡¯s followers.


    They led her away to a room tucked under the eaves in the hall, and here the first servingwoman arrived out of breath with her arms draped with cloth. She shook out the bundle to display a fine linen undertunic and an indigo silk overdress embroidered with tiny gold eight-pointed stars. The cloth rippled like a glimpse of the night sky, pure and mysterious.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never worn anything so fine!¡± Liath whispered in awe, but they dressed her ruthlessly, measured her frame¡ªas tall as the princess but more slender¡ªand belted the overdress with a simple chain of gold links. They announced themselves satisfied with the condition of her hair but wove a golden net of delicate knotwork studded with pearls around the crown of her head as ornament.

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    ¡°Lord have mercy,¡± they murmured, surveying her. ¡°It¡¯s no wonder the prince took a fancy to this one.¡±


    They led her back out into the hall. If she had thought herself fallen into the pit of misery before, it was nothing to what happened now: Even Henry, caught in mid-sentence as he addressed Sapientia, fell silent when he saw her. They all fell silent, every soul in the hall. A moment later when Theophanu rose to relinquish her own seat beside the king, they all broke into voice at once.


    ¡°No dogs set over her to guard her?¡± Conrad¡¯s battle-trained voice carried easily over the throng. ¡°I¡¯d not leave such a precious treasure unattended.¡±


    She felt a blush flow like fire through her cheeks and down all her limbs, then furiously wished it cool for fear of causing an untimely and horrible conflagration. The king had a very odd look in his eye, and he offered her his own cup to drink from. She dared not refuse. The wine hit her throat with a rich bouquet and glowed in her stomach. She had to share the king¡¯s platter¡ªan honor of such distinction that it branded her forever among the folk present here tonight. She would never be anonymous again, not on the king¡¯s progress. And the worst of it was that his fingers kept touching and tangling with hers in the dish so that despite the wonderful aroma and flavor of the food, she could scarcely get it down her throat which stayed parched no matter how much wine she drank.


    Hathui slipped into the hall and stood in disapproving attendance behind the king¡¯s chair. Hanna, trapped in Sapientia¡¯s service, could only throw her despairing glances, helpless to help her. All other faces blurred together.


    Young men wrestled before the king and threw her tokens in competition for her favor, and she had to give a kiss to the winner¡ªa brawny lad whose breath smelled of onions. Jugglers and tumblers entertained, and she had to shower them with silver sceattas brought to her by the stewards. She had to pass judgment on the poets who came forward in the hope of gaining the fancy¡ªand the favor¡ªof the king, and the king demurred on all counts to her judgment. He sat with heavy-lidded eyes and watched her when he was not watching his court. His limbs brushed hers at intervals, but surely that was accident because they sat so close together. The sick feeling that afflicted her heart would not go away.


    ¡°How can you honor her, Your Majesty,¡± said Judith finally, pushed to the edge of her patience, ¡°when my son lies in a fever in his chamber, sweating away the pollution she brought onto him?¡±


    Henry turned in his chair to regard the margrave. ¡°I will act as is fitting, considering the accusations brought before me this day. I have already convened a council of biscops, to be held at Matthiasmass in Autun. There your son and this woman will be brought before those most fit to judge in such matters.¡± His gaze lit on Liath again, and he toasted her with wine. ¡°Yet as my dear cousin Conrad has so wisely warned me, I dare not let such a treasure go unguarded. She will remain by my side until then¡ª¡±


    ¡°By your side, cousin?¡± shouted Conrad, then roared with laughter. ¡°Will that be after the prince tires of her, or before? But I am much struck by her beauty, too. I am not ashamed to state here in front of witnesses that no matter how many royal beds she graces, I will gladly take her off your hands when you are through.¡±


    When Henry laughed, other noblemen took up the jest, took up wagers: How many months until Sanglant tired of her¡ªor the king¡ªor then Conrad? Who would have her next?


    Ai, God. She was desperately ashamed to be made mock of in this fashion. Better to be spinning above the Abyss waiting for God to blow her into the pit than suffer this any longer!


    To her left, Princess Theophanu sat as still as stone. Beyond Theophanu, Helmut Villam frowned at the assembly and did not join in the jesting. But Henry had a grim smile of perverse satisfaction on his face even as he watched her with that terrible glint of wine-inflamed desire on his face. She recognized it now. Hugh had looked at her so on certain winter nights in Heart¡¯s Rest; what always followed was never pleasant, at least not for her.


    ¡°You see by this spectacle, my friends,¡± said Judith in a voice that carried to the four corners of the hall, ¡°that she has now bewitched even our good king. What more proof do you need that she has stained her hands with malevolent sorcery?¡±


    Ai, Lady! At long last he appeared at the door with twilight at his back, alone, without retinue, although thank God he had taken pains to make his clothing look neat. Perhaps the soldiers had done it for him. Master Hosel¡¯s belt looked perfectly in place with his rich tunic and hose. The salamanders worked into the leather almost seemed to slide and shine in the torchlight.

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    He strode forward down the ranks of tables and without a word or any least gesture of acknowledgment halted with arrogant grace before the king¡¯s table. There, he held out his hand. She staggered to her feet, but the king caught her by the wrist.


    ¡°My bed, or his,¡± the king murmured.


    Sanglant¡¯s nostrils flared in anger. But he did not move.


    Henry¡¯s hand tightened on her arm. A whippet growled softly and was hushed. Even the jugglers and tumblers peeked out from where they sat tucked under the king¡¯s table. Everyone watched.


    The king¡¯s bed.


    She stood stunned for a good long time. Henry was about the age Da would have been, had he survived, but Henry wore his years with vigor and he had the fine, handsome, noble appearance that God of necessity grant to a regnant.


    The king¡¯s protection.


    Hugh would never dare touch her. Even the biscops, called to council, would surely be lenient with the king¡¯s mistress.


    Sanglant waited with the dead calm of a man who knows the death blow is moments away.


    ¡°I beg your pardon, Your Majesty,¡± she said. ¡°But I swore an oath before God long ago.¡±


    He let her go. She cared for nothing now except getting out fast; ducking under the table, she crawled over fresh rushes, chicken bones, and the dregs of wine cups, and when she emerged on the other side Sanglant was there to hoist her up, assisted, unexpectedly, by one of the jugglers giving a hearty shove to her backside.


    Everyone began talking at once.


    She saw the door so far in the distance that she was sure they would never make it there, and then it gaped open before her and they stepped out under the night sky. She would have run, out he made her walk so that they would not look undignified.


    He said nothing. When they got back to his chamber, he dug into her saddlebag without asking her leave and pulled out the gold torque. She began to shake. He caught her hands and still without a word twisted the torque around her neck¡ªand stared at her, in her fine gown ornamented with the night sky.


    The torque weighed heavily, a slave collar indeed.


    ¡°Take it off, I beg you.¡± The words choked her. ¡°It¡¯s wrong for me to wear it.¡±


    ¡°Nay, it¡¯s meant for you.¡± He passed a hand over his eyes as at a vision he dared not dream of seeing. ¡°Had it been Taillefer¡¯s court, you still would have outshone them all.¡±


    She slid her fingers under the curve of gold braid, twisted it off, and set it down hard on the table as if the touch of it burned her skin to ice. ¡°There must have been three hundred people in there, and all of them staring at me!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll get used to it.¡±


    ¡®I¡¯ll never get used to it! I don¡¯t want to get used to it!¡±


    ¡°Hush, Liath.¡± He tried to kiss her, to calm her, but she was too agitated to be calmed. She went to the window and leaned out. Many figures moved beyond the corner of the residence: and by their voices, and coarse jesting, and the tidal flow of the crowd, she knew the feast had ended with her departure. ¡°He meant to shame you,¡± said Sanglant as he came up beside her. He was careful not to touch her.


    ¡°Ai, God.¡±


    ¡°Did you bewitch him?¡± he asked casually, flicking a finger along her cheek.


    ¡°I did nothing!¡±


    ¡°You did nothing, and yet he offered you his bed and his protection. My father is well known for his piety and his continence. In all my years at his side, I have never seen a display such as he gave us this night.¡±


    ¡°I did nothing!¡± she repeated, furious now because the humiliation was still so raw. She remembered his own words of yesterday. ¡°I will not have this conversation over and over if you in your heart doubt my intention!¡±


    He laughed, relaxing suddenly. ¡°No, I think you are the on who is witched somehow. Any man in that hall tonight would have taken you to his bed and given you half his estates and a third of his mother¡¯s treasure in return for your favor. The Lord and Lady know that you are beautiful, Liath.¡± He leaned so close that his breath stirred her hair. ¡°But not even the fair Baldwin makes all the ladies of the court go mad with desire for him. And I think God have molded him more like to the angels even than you.¡±


    ¡°Who is the fair Baldwin?¡± she asked indignantly.


    He bent away from her, shut his eyes as he stood silent, listening to the distant chatter of the assembly as it broke into groups and eddied away. She heard only a meaningless murmur, but she knew he could hear far more. ¡°Nay,¡± he said finally, ¡°there is something else at work here, some spell laid on you.¡±

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    ¡°Is that the only reason you asked me to marry you, then,¡± she asked harshly, ¡°because of a spell? And if the biscops so choose, can they can condemn me for something I had no part in?¡±


    He shook his head, having come to a decision. ¡°You will not appear before the biscops. We will ride out with Conrad.¡±


    ¡°Conrad was the worst of them!¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t stay at court! Not after the king¡ªmy own holy father¡ªtried to take you away from me!¡± Then he paused, made certain hesitant gestures as a prelude to speaking so that she knew what was coming next. ¡°Were you tempted?¡±


    Because he asked so timidly, the question made her laugh. ¡°Of course I was tempted. The king¡¯s bed. The king¡¯s protection! I¡¯d be a fool to cast that aside, wouldn¡¯t I? But I swore before God that I would never love any man but you.¡±


    ¡°Ai, Lady, Liath.¡± He embraced her, although he was unsteady. ¡°We will make many strong children together, each one a blessing on our house.¡± He pulled her gently toward the bed, but she slid out of his arms.


    ¡°Let me just stand here for a while,¡± she said, going back to the window. ¡°I¡¯m dizzy.¡± She had drunk so much wine that her head still spun with it. He only smiled and went to sit on the bed, content to watch her.


    She leaned out for a draught of air. She could see stars now in the vault of heaven: the Queen¡¯s Sword stood at zenith, but from this angle she could not see it. The River of Heaven poured westward, and the Guivre rose from its waters with stars streaming off its back. Like Judith¡¯s eye, turned on her with malice. So many stars, a thousand at least, as numerous as the courtiers and servants and hangers-on who followed the king.


    ¡°Da and I were always alone. Even at the court in Qurtubah where everything was rich and crowded, we stayed hidden on the fringe, mostly. We were always alone.¡±


    ¡°Qurtubah,¡± murmured Sanglant from the bed, a soft echo. ¡°I saw a sword from Qurtubah once, light but strong. It had a curve to it.¡±


    Directly north she saw Kokab, the north star, and below it the Ladle, forever poised to catch the heavenly waters and bring them to the mouths of the gods should the gods thirst for such nectar. That was the story the old Dariyans told, but it was not the explanation which the Jinna astronomers, beholden to the great Gyptian philosopher Ptolomaia, set down in their books.


    ¡°¡®The highest sphere encompasses all existing things,¡¯¡± she said softly. The Book of Secrets lay so close behind her that she could feel its quiescent presence; she did not need to open its pages to quote from the text of the Jinna scholar al-Haytham whom she and Da had once met. ¡°¡®It surrounds the sphere of the fixed stars and touches it. It moves with a swift motion from east to west on two fixed poles and makes one revolution in every day and night. All the orbs which it surrounds move with its motion.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Does this mean something I ought to understand?¡± Lounging on the bed, he yawned.


    ¡°We call Kokab the north star because it marks the north pole. There must be a south pole, too, which I haven¡¯t seen.¡±


    ¡°Has someone seen it?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if any of the Jinna astronomers traveled so far. I don¡¯t know if there¡¯s any land in the south. They say it¡¯s all a desert, baked to sand under the sun¡¯s heat.¡± Out among the palace buildings, people filtered away in ripples made of laughter and song and movement as hall and courtyard emptied. ¡°Al Haytham says that day and night increase the closer you are to the place where you would stand under the pole. It would be a zenith¡ª¡±


    He yawned the question more than spoke it.


    She pointed, realized it had grown too dark for him to see her. ¡°Zenith is straight above us. At that place, where you would stand right under the pole, the axis of the world is perpendicular. And the horizon then must coincide exactly with the circle of the celestial equator.¡± The misery of the evening slid off of her as she stared at the stars. Their mysteries never failed to catch hold in her spirit and set her free to wonder. ¡°But then daylight would be almost six months long. Well, as long as the sun remains in the northern signs. Because the sun would always be above the horizon. And night would be almost six months long when the sun was in the southern signs, because the sun would always be below the horizon. So it must also be true at the southern pole, only day and night would be the opposite of that which held at the northern pole. Isn¡¯t that elegant?¡± Now she yawned, the spell of the night wearing even on her. ¡°Sanglant?¡±


    He had fallen asleep.

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    All at once she realized how an unnatural quiet had spread like a cloud creeping out from the horizon to blanket the sky. She yawned again, shook it off.


    ¡°Sanglant?¡±


    He grunted softly, but only to turn over. He was still fully clothed.


    She leaned farther out the window, but only wind crackled in the branches. No sign of life stirred, not hounds sniffing after scraps, not an owl spying for mice, not even servants or rats picking clean platters left half full by drunken nobles. It was as if everyone had fallen abruptly into a profound sleep. The stars shimmered under a veil of haze, sundered from her who was trapped here in the mortal plane.


    ¡°Da?¡± If his soul streamed above her in the River of Heaven, pouring toward the Chamber of Light with the thousands of others released from the flesh, she could not see it.


    Nervous, she crossed to the door and peeked out. Four Lions lay slumped, asleep, by the threshold. In the great courtyard, no living thing moved; dust swirled around abandoned tables.


    The terror hit so hard that she could barely get the door closed, she began to shake so violently; she could barely hoist the bar and wedge it down in its place, barring them in. She turned to go to the window, but it was too late.


    A shadow moved at the open window. A leg thrown over. The glint of gold hair by candlelight. His face, bruised but still beautiful. He set the candle down on the table. The Eika dog whined a warning and he kicked it as he strode past, crossing the chamber to her. He slapped her, hard, before she could even think to defend herself, then shoved her up against the door. With his body pressed against her she could feel his arousal, and, God help her, for an instant a spike of lust coursed through her only because her body was so alive to desire, made so by Sanglant¡¯s presence.


    Then he hit her again.


    She fought back, but he was in a frenzy; he was too far gone even to speak in that eloquent, beautiful voice. He grabbed her by the shoulders and wrestled her to the bed, flung her down beside Sanglant. Who did not wake. Who breathed most gently, eyes closed, face peaceful and yet, even in repose, proud and strong.


    ¡°Now you will give me what you give him!¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t!¡± The word was forced out of her by his weight as he dropped down on top of her, knee pressed against her chest and a hand on either shoulder. His face was bruised and his front teeth chipped; his beauty spoiled.


    He let go of one shoulder to grope for his knife. ¡°Or I¡¯ll kill him. I¡¯ll slit his throat while he sleeps here helplessly, and if you burn down this room around us, he¡¯ll be the first to die!¡±


    It was only a bad dream, wasn¡¯t it? She would wake up in an instant and everything would be fine.


    The Eika dog whined, claws scrabbling weakly at the floor. Ai, God! Let her keep her wits about her even while terror drowned her. It was so hard not simply to slide away into the frozen tower where she had hidden all those months in Heart¡¯s Rest. But she could not. She must not.


    ¡°How can I know you won¡¯t kill him anyway, after you¡¯re done?¡± she asked hoarsely.


    ¡°You can¡¯t know! They¡¯re all asleep, Liath.¡± His voice gentled. ¡°No one can help you now, and do you dare risk burning down this place knowing the king rests next door, asleep? He¡¯ll not escape in time; he¡¯ll be the second to die. Will his death be on your head, too?¡± His face twisted again, and the bruise mottled in the inconstant light to become like the mark of the Enemy. ¡°I will have what he has enjoyed! He¡¯s no better than a dog. How could you possibly prefer him to me!¡±


    ¡°I hate you.¡±


    He smiled with the old familiar beauty¡ªnot lost after all but merely poisoned. ¡°Hate is only the other face of love, my beauty. You cannot hate what you cannot also love. You cannot possibly imagine how beautiful you looked seated beside the king You looked truly to be a queen, set higher than the rest. I can¡¯t believe you were foolish enough to turn away from the king¡¯s favor for¡ªthis¡ªthis dog!¡±


    ¡°Jealousy is a sin.¡± Just yesterday she had been able to hate him with all her passion, but, trapped by him against the bed, all that anger drained away. Numbness oozed from his hand like poison down her arm, invaded her chest, spread with the inevitable doom of a plague brought down by angels upon those who have turned their back on God¡¯s Holy Word.


    ¡°Then I will fall forever into the Abyss¡ªbut you will be at my side! Forever. We will ride out in the morning, back to Firsebarg. You and I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Princess Sapientia¡ª¡±


    ¡°What do I care for Sapientia? Ah, my beauty, how long I have waited for this. Perhaps the wait truly only makes it sweeter.¡±

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    He pressed the knife against Sanglant¡¯s vulnerable throat. A line of red started up, not quite seeping.


    ¡°Ai, God,¡± she breathed. She had nothing but fire, and fire would destroy what she loved.


    ¡°Take off your clothes, so I can see you who are dark and lovely.¡±


    Why hadn¡¯t Da¡¯s spell that protected her against all other magics protected her against Hugh¡¯s? Unless what Hugh had woven onto her during that long winter in Heart¡¯s Rest had not been any kind of spell at all but only cruelty and abuse.


    Was it better to die with Sanglant?


    ¡°I told you what I wanted.¡± He pressed the knife harder, and Sanglant actually murmured and shifted¡ªbut he did not wake. He could not wake. Hugh pressed the knife harder until blood trickled down the prince¡¯s neck.


    The dog lunged, dragged itself forward, and gripped Hugh¡¯s trailing foot in its mouth; even weakened the dog had a sharp bite. Hugh jerked back and swore in pain, kicked free of the dog, and then kicked it back into the corner.


    Which gave her time and chance.


    She dove for her short sword.


    He wrenched her back just as she got a grip on the handle. Slammed her against the wall. ¡°I¡¯ll kill him! I promise you, I¡¯ll kill him. You¡¯re mine, damn you.¡±


    She fought him, trying to catch his hands so the blows wouldn¡¯t land; trying not to explode into a fire made manifest by terror. There Sanglant breathed, so peaceful, but so far away now that Hugh loomed everywhere. She would never be free of him. But at least if she fought, she would be dead.


    ¡°God damn you!¡± He took her throat in his hands. ¡°You are mine! Or no one¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Hush, Brother. Calm yourself. I fear you are overwrought.¡±


    Hugh did not register the voice. Over his shoulder, Liath saw the door standing open. She had barred that door. Stunned into immobility, she felt the back of her head hit the wall as Hugh shook her by the throat, but she could only stare, limp and passive, as a veiled figure crossed the threshold and glided into the room.


    ¡°Brother,¡± it said in a woman¡¯s sorrowful yet commanding alto, ¡°this is unseemly behavior for any soul indeed and yet how much worse in a man sworn to the church and educated in its ways. Alas, how God¡¯s children have fallen!¡±


    Now his grip slackened. His eyes widened, and his lips parted with astonishment. He let Liath go and she slid down the wall as though she hadn¡¯t any bones left and sat hard, jolting her spine, on the floor. Beside her, the Eika dog lay under the window like a dead thing.


    He raised a hand, pointed it at the hooded figure as a threat¡ªor as prelude to a spell.


    But her hand, pale and smooth, rose in response, and abruptly Hugh clapped a hand to his throat. His mouth worked, but no sound came out.


    ¡°Such a lovely countenance, such an elegant voice, to be poisoned by such trivial weaknesses as lust and envy. I pity you, Brother.¡± She stepped aside from the door. The opening yawned wide and as dark as the pit beyond, where nothing stirred. She might have walked into the chamber from out of thin air, and yet she had weight and substance and her footfalls made a faint noise as she moved. ¡°You are not as powerful as you think you are, although I admit you have strength of will and a promising intelligence. Such a great talent to be wasted tormenting a helpless girl. You must scour all such base feelings from your soul and be purified by God¡¯s love. Then you will understand that the power we have on earth, the lusts that hunger in our flesh, are as nothing compared to the promise of the Chamber of Light. All is darkness, below. Above¡ª¡± She gestured eloquently toward the ceiling, but by the sweep of her arm she included the high heavens in that gesture. ¡°¡ªthere is only that light which is God¡¯s gentle breath.¡±


    Hugh could not speak, although he tried to. He tried to grasp his knife, but it kept slipping out of his fingers. He was helpless. And Liath exulted in her heart to see him so.


    ¡°Go, Brother. ¡®Heal thyself.¡¯ But do not trouble me or this child any longer.¡±


    He coughed out something, not words¡ªperhaps a curse that had gotten stuck in his throat. He stumbled over to the table and fumbled for the candle and at last got the bronze handle squeezed between thumb and forefinger. Even so, he could barely stay upright; he grunted like a pig as he groped along the table. Then, suddenly, he dropped to his knees and got his arm under the strap to the leather pouch which before the struggle had been hooked to the dog.


    ¡°The book!¡± Liath tried to get up, but her bones had all melted and she could not move.


    He staggered out, and the veiled figure just let him go.

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    With the candle gone, night shuttered the chamber in layers of shadow. Silence settled like so many owls coming to roost in the eaves.


    Liath began to cry, and then to hiccup as she cried. Pain cut into her throat like a rope burn, winching tighter. Her shoulder hurt; her ribs ached; on her left hip a bruise throbbed painfully. Sanglant gave a soft sleeping snort and shifted on the bed.


    ¡°The book!¡± she said again, her voice made harsh by Hugh¡¯s grip.


    The figure moved to the bed. ¡°He will not find a mathematicus to train him in its use, unless he comes to us.¡±


    A light appeared suddenly from her upraised palm, a gently glowing globe lined with silver. She held it over the bed and its sheen of light illuminated the sleeping Sanglant¡ªand the line of blood that traced the curve of his throat. With a casual gesture, she tipped back her cowl and veil so that the fabric draped along her shoulders rather like a small creature curled there.


    She had pale hair drawn back into a braid that, curled into a bun, nestled at the back of her head. She wore no other head covering, and the shapeless robes concealed all else. From this angle, Liath could not see her face, only an ear and the suggestion of a strong profile, neither young nor old.


    The woman bent forward and with the light held before her examined Sanglant with great interest. She touched his knees. She lifted each hand in turn to scrutinize palm and fingers before letting it fall limply back on the bed. She traced the swell of bone in his cheeks, parted his lips to study his teeth, and clasped his shoulders as if to gauge their strength. She pressed a hand on the old scar at the base of his throat, the visible mark of the wound that had ruined his voice, rubbed softly at the fresh raw wound only now beginning to heal, the mark of Bloodheart¡¯s iron collar, and then ran a finger along the shallow cut made by Hugh¡¯s knife to collect and taste his blood. Indeed, she behaved very like a noble lady who prefers to personally examine the fine stallion in question before she buys it to breed into her herd.


    ¡°So this is Sanglant,¡± she said in a tone of detached curiosity.


    The name, uttered so dispassionately and yet with such a sense of ancient and hoarded knowledge, startled Liath into speaking. ¡°Do you know him?¡±


    ¡°No mathematicus who studies the geometry of the heavens, who is aware of that which exists beyond human ken, is unaware of him. Even the daimones of the upper air whisper of his progress from child to youth to man.¡±


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Liath whispered. Her hands tingled sharply as blood flooded back into them. She tried to stand, but her knees gave out. She ached everywhere.


    ¡°Those in Duke Conrad¡¯s party know me as Sister Anne from St. Valeria Convent.¡± She displayed a pleasant smile that by no means touched her eyes. She had an ageless face, hair made paler by the silvery light of the globe that hovered at her fingertips, and, most astonishingly, a torque nestled around her neck, braided gold that glittered in the magelight with each end twisted off into a nub that an unknown master craftsman had formed into a face resembling nothing as much as an angel resting in beatific ecstasy.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t Sister Anne,¡± Liath blurted out. ¡°I saw her. She was small, and old, and had wrinkled hands covered with age spots, and different eyes, brown eyes.¡±


    ¡°How can you have seen Sister Anne? Did you bide at St. Valeria Convent for a time?¡±


    Liath hesitated, then realized how foolish it was to fear her. If this woman could turn aside Hugh¡¯s spells so easily, then whatever she meant to do to Liath would be done whether or not Liath fought against it. ¡°I saw her in a vision through fire.¡±


    She smiled at this, looking truly pleased this time¡ªno longer a mask. She lifted her arm slightly to let the globe better illuminate her face. ¡°Don¡¯t you know who I am, Liath?¡±


    The globe pulsed with light. Liath struggled to her feet. She had a terrible bruise forming in her right thigh where Hugh had jammed his knee into it, and her shins throbbed where he had kicked her. The silvery gleam grew stronger, the globe spit white sparks, and suddenly the sparks blossomed into butterflies, flitting everywhere, winged light like glass flying off all around the room so that every corner became a field of splintering, swooping light. As with a breath breathed onto them from an unseen source, each white spark bloomed into color: ruby, carnelian, amber, citrine, emerald, lapis lazuli, and amethyst, stars fallen to earth and caught within this chamber, and each one engaged in a dance of such peculiar beauty that she could only stare in awe.


    Then she knew, of course. But she could not at first speak, not because of magic but simply because she could not remember how to speak.

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    Ai, God. Memory flooded, surfacing, as she turned back to face the one who held the globe of light. ¡°Muh¡ªMother?¡±


    She had a headache from the pounding her head had taken against the wall. Sparks swirled around her eyes, and then everything vanished, leaving her with a steady gleam of magelight and a cool, pale woman of vast power and middling height who regarded her with a thoughtful gaze unsullied by emotion.


    ¡°You have grown up, of course. Your beauty is unexpected and has caused you trouble, I see.¡±


    ¡°Why have you come?¡± Liath asked stupidly.


    She released the globe and it bobbed to the ceiling, sank, and drifted to a balance just below the eaves. ¡°I have come for you, of course. I have been looking for you and Bernard for a long time. And now, at last, I have found you.¡±


    4


    DURING her reign as Queen of Wendar and Varre, Sophia of Arethousa had been accused by certain clerics of the sin of living in luxury beyond what was seemly for humankind, and some had muttered that God had punished her for the excessive luxury of her habits by striking her down with a festering sore: as inside, so outside.


    But Sanglant recalled her fondly. She had always in her cool way suffered Sanglant to roam in chambers made opulent by the extravagant display of the many fine possessions she had brought with her from Arethousa. As a child he had loved to explore those chambers: the bold tapestries, the rich fragrance of incense smothering the air, the bright reliquaries and crosses set on elaborately-carved Hearths inlaid with ivory and gems, the plush carpets on which a young boy could lie for hours while tracing their intricacies with a finger, the sumptuous silks that he would run his hands through just to feel their softness. Once he had accidentally broken a crystal chessman, one of the handsome horsemen he loved to play with as he imagined himself among their number, and although the piece was irreplaceable, she had merely ordered a matching piece carved out of wood and had said no more about the incident. His freedom in her chambers had ended when he turned nine and was sent off to learn to fight¡ªto his fate, as he thought of it then.


    But he had never forgotten the feel of that cloth. Around Queen Sophia¡¯s bed had hung a gauzy veil that seemed to dissolve like mist when he clenched it in his small fist.


    Now he clawed at a substance as filmy, struggling to free himself from a tangle of gauzelike sleep that had wrapped around him: The dogs would kill him if he couldn¡¯t wake up.


    Never let it be said that he did not fight until his last breath.


    Dreams fluttered at the edge of his vision: Hugh of Austra, his handsome face poisoned by jealousy, setting a knife to his throat; people and animals dead asleep throughout the palace grounds like so many corpses left strewn on the field after a battle; an owl skimming east; depthless waters roiled suddenly by the movement of creatures more man than fish; the Aoi woman whose blood had healed him loping at a steady pace over interminable grasslands with a filthy servant riding at her heels on a pony decked out in Quman style.


    She stops to scent the air, brushes her hand through the wind as if reading a message. The servant watches her almost worshipfully; he has no beard, and wears a torn and dirty robe that might once have belonged to a frater as well as a Circle of Unity at his neck. He waits as she lifts her stone-tipped spear and rattles it in the wind. The bells attached to its base tinkle, shattering the silence around him¡ª


    ¡°And now, at last, I have found you.¡±


    He bolted up, growling, and was on his feet with arms raised to strike before he came entirely awake. In Bloodheart¡¯s hall, speed had been his only defense. Speed¡ªand a stubborn refusal to die. From under the window the Eika dog growled weakly but did not otherwise stir.


    ¡°Sanglant!¡± Liath crossed to him and pulled his arms down, then stood there with one hand on his wrist. An uncanny light gleamed in the chamber, sorcerer¡¯s fire: heatless and fuelless. He steadied himself on her shoulder, and she winced¡ªnot from his touch, but from pain.


    ¡°What has happened?¡± He moved to stand in front of Liath, to protect her from the intruder, but she stopped him.


    ¡°This is my mother.¡±


    The gauze still entangled his mind. Her mother. He could see no trace of Liath in this woman¡¯s face, except that the unconscious pride with which Liath carried herself was made manifest in this noblewoman¡¯s carriage and expression: That she wore a gold torque did not astonish him, although it surprised him. Was she of Salian descent? She watched him without speaking and indeed without any apparent emotion except a touch of curiosity.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± he asked bluntly. ¡°We are wed, she and I.¡±

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    ¡°So I have heard, as well as a great deal else. It is time Liath left this place.¡±


    ¡°For where?¡± asked Liath.


    ¡°And with whom?¡± added Sanglant.


    ¡°It is time for Liath to fulfill that charge which is rightfully hers by birth. She will come with me to my villa at Verna where she will study the arts of the mathematici.¡±


    Sanglant smiled softly. Liath tensed, but whether with worry¡ªor excitement¡ªat the prospect he could not tell. And in truth, how well did he know her? The image he had made of her in his mind had little to do with her: In the brief days since she had returned, he had seen her to be both more¡ªand less¡ªthan the imagined woman he had built his life around during those months of captivity. But he was willing to be patient.


    ¡°You speak of forbidden sorcery,¡± he observed. ¡°One that the church has condemned.¡±


    ¡°The church does not condemn what is needful,¡± Anne replied. ¡°Thus I am assured that God approve our work.¡±


    ¡°Our work?¡± he murmured.


    Liath dropped his wrist and stepped forward. ¡°Why did you abandon Da and me? Why did you let us think you were dead for all those years?¡±


    ¡°I did not abandon you, child. You had already fled, and we could not find you.¡±


    ¡°You must have known Da couldn¡¯t take care of us!¡±


    She had a puzzling face, one that didn¡¯t show her years, yet neither did she appear young. ¡°Bernard loved the world too much,¡± she said sadly, although her expression never varied from that face that reminded him most of Sister Rosvita when she was soothing Henry: the mask of affability that all successful courtiers wear. ¡°It was his great weakness. He could not turn away from the things of the flesh¡ªall that is transient and mortal. He delighted in the spring plants, in the little fawns running among the trees, in your first steps and first words, but these delights are also a trap for the unwary, for by these means the Enemy wraps his tendrils around those of good heart who are seduced by the beauty of the world.¡± She sighed in the way of a teacher who regards a well-loved if exasperating pupil. ¡°I see his mark on you, Daughter. But his alone. No other hand has worked in your soul to corrupt you. To change you.¡±


    ¡°To change me?¡±


    ¡°From what you are meant to be.¡±


    ¡°Which is?¡± asked Sanglant.


    ¡°A mathematicus,¡± said Anne firmly. ¡°Gather your things Liath. We will leave now and be gone long before day breaks.¡±


    ¡°With what retinue do we travel?¡± asked Sanglant.


    She regarded him with that unfathomable gaze, and for an instant the chamber dimmed, and his skin trembled as if snakes crawled up his arms and legs, and he was shaken by a fear like nothing he had ever felt before: what an ant might feel in that shadowed moment before a hand reaches down to crush it.


    Then the moment passed, and he merely stood in an ordinary chamber fitted out with the usual luxuries due to a fighting man of noble birth: two carpets thrown over the plank floor; a chest filled with clothing and linens; a table and, with it, a chair rather than a common bench; an engraved copper basin and pitcher for washing his face and hands as well as an enamel tray, several wooden platters, two bone spoons, two silver goblets and one bowl fashioned out of gold; a plush feather bed covered by a spread magnificently embroidered with the figure of a black dragon, sigil of his triumphs as a soldier. The globe of magelight illuminated every corner of the room and all that it held: every piece of it come to him out of his father¡¯s treasury and his father¡¯s favor, which was itself a kind of prison. His armor and weapons¡ªhis morning gift¡ªgleamed under the light as if they had been enchanted with unknown powers. And perhaps they were: They had come to him through his own efforts.


    ¡°You propose to travel with us?¡± Anne asked finally.


    ¡°I am a king¡¯s son, and whatever your lineage, my lady, you cannot look down upon my kin and my noble birth.¡±


    ¡°It is the sins of the world and the weaknesses of the flesh that I look down upon. Shall I subject my daughter to them further? Or save her from them by taking her away from all that tempts her?¡±


    ¡°The blessed Daisan said that within marriage we may find purification. Salvation arises out of creation.¡±


    She folded her hands before her like a saint readying for prayer. ¡°You are a learned man, Prince Sanglant.¡±


    ¡°Not at all. But I listen when the clerics read from the Holy Verses.¡± He allowed himself a smile, half lost on his lips and quickly passing away. He knew a battle joined when he met one; and, as always, he intended to win.

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    ¡°What have you to offer me?¡± she asked.


    ¡°The protection I can bring you as we travel, in exchange for which you will agree to feed and clothe me, and supply me with a suitable mount.¡±


    ¡°I do not need that kind of brute protection. In addition, I have only two mounts suitable for riding. You have nothing but service to offer me, Prince Sanglant. Will you bind yourself to me as a servant, one who walks at my side?¡±


    The first blow that lands always comes as a surprise. But he knew better than to flail.


    Liath did not. Her anger fairly sparked off her. ¡°I have something you want,¡± she cried furiously.


    Her anger had no effect on the depthless calm worn by her mother. ¡°What is that?¡±


    ¡°Myself!¡±


    ¡°Earthly ties can only interfere with the concentration and detachment required of any person who wishes to learn the arts of the mind.¡±


    ¡°I have a horse, and I will only go with you if Sanglant comes with us. He will ride beside us on my horse not as a servant but as a soldier. As a captain.¡±


    ¡°As he was once captain of the King¡¯s Dragons.¡± Anne studied him. He recognized the measuring gaze of one whose course of action is not yet fixed. But he chose to wait. Perhaps Liath¡¯s flanking action would serve the purpose, and the truth was that he did not care how the victory was won. He simply would not leave her.


    ¡°His name is famous among the people of Wendar and Varre, and among their enemies,¡± Liath continued. ¡°He is worth more than you know.¡±


    Anne lifted a hand to capture the magelit globe and turn its light directly upon him. He had to blink at first because the light was so strong, but he did not shrink from her scrutiny. ¡°Nay, Liathano, I am not unaware of his worth, the child of human and Aoi blood. Not at all.¡±


    Like a warning finger run up his back, his spine tingled.


    ¡°It is not what I expected,¡± she said, still studying him in the way an eagle gliding above the earth surveys the landscape below and all that runs there. ¡°But still ¡­ We can learn more than we have known up until now.¡±


    ¡°Then it¡¯s agreed?¡± Liath stuck stubbornly to the issue at hand.


    ¡°It is agreed.¡±


    ¡°Ai, Lady!¡± Liath embraced him, shedding a few tears. ¡°I pray God that we find the peace you long for when we reach Verna.¡±


    He kept his arms around her but his gaze on her mother, who watched them without approval and yet without any obvious censorious disapproval. Her gaze had its own disconcerting backwash. He did not trust her. Yet neither did he feel in his gut that Liath¡¯s choice to go with her was the wrong one. This contradiction he could not explain to himself.


    Liath sighed with satisfaction and raised her head to get a kiss, and of course he complied.


    But that did not mean he stopped listening.


    ¡°This, too, is unexpected,¡± Anne murmured, too softly for Liath to hear, but he heard very well, as well as a dog. ¡°But not without advantage for our cause.¡±


    *   *   *


    The palace slept as they made their way through the upper enclosure, but it was a natural sleep; he recognized its rustlings and murmurings. As they packed their few possessions, Liath had haltingly told him the entire story of Hugh¡¯s attack, and while at first he had certainly wanted nothing more than to get his hands around Hugh¡¯s throat and throttle him, he knew enough to let the feeling swell and then burst. They were in enough trouble. Henry would refuse to let them leave; all three of them knew that unsavory fact, and they worked more quickly, and in such silence as they could, because of it, although it was a tricky business getting the gelding out of the stable.


    When at last they arrived at the gate where three mules and one horse waited, he began to doubt Anne¡¯s princely appearance because she had no retinue. An instant later, he knew himself mistaken when he heard whispering on the air. They spoke in a language he did not recognize, more wind than voice, and he could not see them, but he heard the breath of their movement and the rustling of that portion of their invisible bodies which gave them substance.


    ¡°Who is there?¡± murmured Liath, as if afraid her whisper would wake the palace. The magelight seemed now to Sanglant merely a particularly bright lantern¡ªalthough its glow had too steady a flame to be natural.


    ¡°My servants,¡± said Anne softly.


    He shuddered as fingers trailed over his back, searching, then vanished. Breath tickled an ear, and his hair stirred, blown into his eyes. By the time he brushed it away, he was alone again. He threw his armor¡ªmuffled in the dragon-sigil-bedspread¡ªover the back of one of the pack mules and tied it on securely, then handed the spear to Liath. ¡°I must get the dog.¡±