Semini nodded his head. He was watching her as a wary dog might watch another. "I was ordained here in Brezno by Orlandi ca'Cellibrecca, my marriage-vatarh, but as a young o'teni I traveled with him to Nessantico several times when he was A'teni of Brezno."

"Then you undoubtedly understand why Nessantico was always the center of the Holdings. There's a grandeur and history there that one can't feel anywhere else. You can understand why-some day when the Holdings are unified again-Nessantico will become the center of the known world once again. I'm certain of that." She touched his arm; she could feel him draw back. "I want to thank you, Semini. You gave me the perfect opportunity to demonstrate to Fynn just how loyal I was to him-despite the way Vatarh disposed of me as heir, despite Fynn's paranoia and suspicions toward me, despite all the arguments and quarrels we've had. He'll never suspect again that I or Jan would conspire against him."

Even in the dimness of the balcony, lit only by teni-lamps set on either end of the railings, she could see color darken his face. His hands made fists at his sides, and he looked away from her. He said nothing.

"Kraljiki Audric won't live long, from what I'm told," she continued. "I've discovered that I really don't want to be the Hirzgin, Semini. But when the day arrives that the Holdings become one again-let us say, under a Kraljica-it will need a strong Hirzg to be the Holdings' sword, the role Firenzcia has always played. Now, my son will make a grand Hirzg one day, don't you think? A wonderful leader."

His eyes widened slightly. "You want-"

"Yes," she answered before he could finish the question.

"You took an incredible risk, Allesandra."

"Well, I'll admit you did rather startle me with your audacity. I almost decided to just let it happen. But large ambitions require large risks-as you obviously realize. And you owe me for the risk I took, Semini, because I made certain afterward that the a.s.sa.s.sination attempt can't be easily traced back to you. I destroyed the evidence that could talk."

"I had nothing to do . . ."

She waved at his weak protest. "Come now. Only the moon can hear us here, and we both know better. There's still evidence against you, should I be forced to reveal it. We both know that if I were to relate to Fynn some of the conversations we've had, or to tell him about the missive you received from the Regent of Nessantico-" Semini's eyes widened further at that, and Allesandra knew that her guess had been right, "-well, we know that the interrogators in the Bastida can extract a full confession from anyone. Fynn would order such an interrogation, even of the Archigos, should I insist. After all, I'm his loyal sister, who interposed herself between him and that vile Numetodo. And if you tried to tell him that I was involved, too, why, my actions and those of Jan would give the lie to that accusation, wouldn't they?"

"What do you want?" Semini asked dully. He stepped back from her, as if her presence was a contamination. That pleased Allesandra; it meant that all the posturing was over. His fine, dark eyes flashed with the reflections of the teni-lights below them, his stance was that of a cornered bear, powerful and ready to defend itself to the death. She found she liked that.

"Actually, I don't want anything more than what you want yourself," she told him. "You and I are still on the same side, even though I know that you're feeling uncertain of that. I like you, Semini. I do. I would like you to become the One Archigos. And you will be-if you do as I tell you. You made two mistakes, Semini. One was thinking that Fynn was only useful to us dead when, in fact, we want him alive. For now."

"And the second?"

She tilted her head to the side, regarding him. "You thought that you were the one who should be making the decisions for us. I don't expect you to make that mistake again. Back when I was a hostage in Nessantico, Archigos Ana often told how the Archigos always serves two masters: Cenzi for the Faith, and the person on the Sun Throne for the Holdings."

She touched his arm once more. This time he did not draw back, and she laced her arm with his. "Come, let's dance together, Archigos, since neither of our respective spouses seem to care. Let's see how well we might move together."

She urged him from the balcony and out again into the noise and light of the ballroom.

Eneas cu'Kinnear.

"YOU UNDOUBTEDLY HAVE CeNZI watching over you, O'Offizier cu'Kinnear, though the news you carry is most disturbing." Donatien ca'Sibelli, Commandant of the Holdings forces in the h.e.l.lins and twin brother to Sigourney ca'Ludovici of the Council of Ca', paced behind his desk as Eneas stood at attention before him. The room reflected the man: clean and spa.r.s.e, with nothing to distract the eye. The desktop was polished, with a single stack of paper on it, aligned perfectly to the edge of the desk. An inkwell and pen quill were set on the other side, with a container of blotting sand forming a perfect right angle above them. The wastebasket was empty. A single, plain wooden chair had been placed before the desk. The blue-and-gold banner of Nessantico hung limply on a pole in one corner.

Ca'Sibelli, in his office at least, allowed nothing to intrude on his duty as commandant. There was no questioning ca'Sibelli's loyalty or bravery-he had fought well against overwhelming odds in the Battle of the Fens and had been decorated and promoted by Kraljiki Justi, and his sister had served the state in her way, but Eneas had always suspected that the man's brain was as spa.r.s.ely furnished as his office.

"Sit, O'Offizier," ca'Sibelli said, waving to the chair and taking his own seat. He plucked the top sheet from the reports and placed it in front of him as Eneas took his seat. The commandant's forefinger moved under the text as he scanned it. "A'Offizier ca'Matin will be sorely missed. Seeing him sacrificed at the whims of the false G.o.ds those savages worship must have been horrific, and you're extremely fortunate to have avoided the same fate, O'Offizier."

Eneas had wondered at that himself, and the offiziers who had debriefed him since his return had often said the same, some of them with an undertone of accusation in their voices. He'd been three days in the wilderness around Lake Malik, avoiding Westlander villages and keeping his horse moving north and east. On the fourth day, starving and weak, his mount nearly exhausted, he'd glimpsed riders on a hill. They'd seen him as well and came galloping toward him. He'd waited for them, knowing that-enemy or friend-he couldn't outrun them. Cenzi had smiled on him again: the group was a small Holdings reconnaissance patrol and not Westlander soldiers. They'd fed him, listened in astonishment to his tale, and brought him back to their outpost.

Over the next few days, as word was sent back to Munereo and the order dispatched that Eneas was to return to Munereo, he learned that barely a third of the army led by A'Offizier ca'Matin had managed to limp home after the chaotic retreat. Of his own unit, he was the lone survivor. The shock of the news had sent Eneas to his knees, praying to Cenzi for the souls of the men he'd known and commanded. Too many of them gone now. Far too many. The loss stunned him and left him reeling.

Now, Eneas simply nodded at the commandant's comment and watched as the man continued to read, muttering to himself.

"The nahualli were with the army, then. Our intelligence was wrong."

"Yes, sir. Though I've fought against them many times and I've never seen spells like these-fire exploding from the ground underneath us, those circles of dark sand . . ." Eneas swallowed hard, remembering. "One of those spells went off near me, and I don't remember anything after that until . . . after the battle was already over. They thought I was dead."

"Cenzi put His hand over you and saved you," ca'Sibelli commented, and Eneas nodded again. He believed that. He'd been more and more certain of it over the days since he'd left the Tehuantin encampment. Cenzi had blessed him. Cenzi was saving him for a special reason-he knew this. He could feel it. At night, he seemed to hear Cenzi's voice, telling him what He wanted Eneas to do.

Eneas would obey, as any good teni would.

"Cenzi was indeed with me, Commandant." Eneas felt that fervently-what other answer could there be? He had expected to die, and yet Cenzi had reached out to the heathen Niente and touched the man's heart. That was the only explanation. And despite the hunger and thirst, despite the exhaustion after he'd left the Westlanders, in some ways Eneas had never quite felt so invigorated, so full of life and alive. His very soul burned inside him. Sometimes he could feel energy tingling in his fingertips. "That's why, Commandant, I've made the request to return to Nessantico. I feel that this is the task for which Cenzi has spared me."

There was a destiny for him to fulfill. That was why he escaped the Westlanders; it had been Cenzi working within Nahual Niente. Nothing more. Certainly not the workings of their false G.o.d Axat.

Ca'Sibelli had frowned slightly with Eneas' last comment. He ruffled his papers again. "I have prepared a report to send back to Nessantico," ca'Sibelli continued, "and a recommendation for a commendation for you, O'Offizer cu'Kinnear. But still, we'd sorely miss your experience and your leadership here, especially with the loss of A'Offizier ca'Matin."

"That's kind of you to say, Commandant," Eneas answered. It was not like him to protest in the face of orders, but Cenzi was a higher authority. "But reports are dry things, and those in Nessantico, especially the Regent and the Kraljiki, need to know how dire our circ.u.mstances are here. I think . . . I believe I would be well-suited to take the message back. I can talk directly to those in Nessantico about how things are here. They can hear from my lips what has happened. I can convince them; Cenzi tells me that I can."

You will go to your leader. You will talk to him, and you will give him a message for us. . . . He thought, for a moment, that he heard that sentence in a great, deep voice within his head. Eneas was too startled to speak immediately. "Commandant," Eneas continued, "I do understand that my place is here with the troops, especially with the Westlanders threatening to advance on Munereo herself. I will return here, as soon as I possibly can, but I can give your report so much more impact. I promise you that. I would suggest that you go yourself, but your expertise and leadership are critical to our victory against the Westlanders."

Ca'Sibelli waved his hand. The movement stirred the top papers on the desk, and he stopped to align them again. He sighed. "I suppose one offizier more or less isn't going to make a difference-or, rather, I believe you when you say you can make far more difference speaking to the Kraljiki and the Council of Ca' than by bearing a sword here. Perhaps you're right about Cenzi's Will. All right, O'Offizier cu'Kinnear: you will leave tomorrow morning at first light on the Stormcloud. E'Offizier cu'Montgomeri has my report for you to deliver; you may pick it up as you leave. I will expect you back here with Stormcloud's return."

Ca'Sibelli stood, and Eneas scrambled to his feet to salute. "You already know that A'Offizier ca'Matin had recommended you for the t.i.tle of Chevaritt," the commandant told him as he returned the salute. "I have signed off on that recommendation; it will also be on the Stormcloud for the Kraljiki to sign. I suspect that there are great things in store for you, O'Offizier. Great things."

Eneas nodded. He suspected that also. Cenzi would make certain of it.

Audric ca'Dakwi.

THE WIND-HORNS OF THE TEMPLE droned First Call, their mournful, discordant notes shredding the last vestiges of sleep.

Audric allowed Seaton and Marlon to help him from his bed. Even with their a.s.sistance, Audric was out of breath by the time he was standing on his feet in his bedclothes. His domestiques de chambre held him, their hands on him as they stripped his night shift from him, then began to dress him for the morning's audience. Swaying slightly in their hands, panting, he glanced at Marguerite's portrait. She smiled grimly at him.

"You're weak physically because you're weak politically," the Kraljica told him. "Cenzi has sent your illness to you as a sign. You're swaddled in iron shackles that you can't even see, Audric: heavy and confining and weighing you down, and it's that burden that sickens you. The Regent has placed them around you, Audric. He steals power from you; he steals your health. When you break free of the Regent's shackles, when you are Kraljiki in fact as well as in t.i.tle, your sickness will also fall from you."

"I know, Great-Matarh," he told her. It was an effort just to lift his head. The corners of the room were as dark as if night still cloaked them; he could only see the painting. "I look forward . . . to that day." For a moment, Marlon and Seaton stopped in their attentions, startled at his reply.

"Soon," she crooned to him. "Whatever you do, it must be soon. The Regent intends to weaken you until you die, Audric. He poisons you with his words, with his advice of caution, with the power he's stolen from you. He wants it all for himself, and he is killing you to have it. You must act."

"That's what I'm doing today, Great-Matarh," he told her.

"Kraljiki?" Seaton asked, and Audric glanced angrily at him.

"You do not interrupt when I am in conversation with your betters," he spat, the words broken by gasps for air. "Do so again and you will be dismissed from my service, and flogged for your insolence besides. Do you understand?"

He saw Seaton glance at Marlon, then give Audric a quick, low bow. "My apologies, Kraljiki. I . . . I was wrong."

Audric sniffed. Marguerite smiled at him, nodding in the frame of her picture. "Hurry yourselves," he told the two. "Today will be a busy one."

A half turn of the gla.s.s later, he was dressed and breaking his fast at the table on the balcony of his bedchamber, overlooking the formal gardens of the palais. He heard the knock on the outer door, and the hall servant talking to Marlon. "Kraljiki," Marlon said a few moments later as Audric sipped mint tea, savoring the smell of the herb. "Your guests are awaiting you in the outer chamber."

"Excellent." He set the cup down and waved away Marlon and Seaton as they hurried to a.s.sist. "Leave me. I'm fine," he told them. As he walked past the portrait of Marguerite, he nodded to her, then went to the door to the reception chamber. Marlon moved to open the door for him, and Audric held up his hand, waiting to gather his breath again, waiting until he could breathe without gasping. He nodded finally, and Marlon opened the door.

He watched them rise quickly to their feet as he entered, bowing: Sigourney ca'Ludovici, Aleron ca'Gerodi, and Odil ca'Mazzak-all members of the Council of Ca', the three most influential among the seven. Sigourney was the keystone, he knew: she carried the ca'Ludovici name as had Kraljica Marguerite. Thin and active, her long, fine-featured face animated, she was approaching her fourth decade, her hair a false coal-black shining white at its roots-and with her twin brother commanding the forces in the h.e.l.lins, she had the voice of the military behind her as well. Odil, a hale sixty, had sat on the Council of Ca' for the longest time of all of them. His body had the lean, shriveled appearance of smoked meat and he walked with a careful shuffle supported by a cane, but his mind remained sharp and keen. At barely thirty, Aleron was one of the younger members of the Council, but he was charismatic, charming, carrying his weight well enough to still be considered handsome-and he had married well into the ancient ca'Gerodi family.

"Please, be seated," Audric told them. He took his own seat near the hearth, on the other side of which his great-matarah's portrait hung. He could imagine her, the back of her head to them as she listened. "I've asked you here today because I value your counsel, and I would like your opinions." He paused, for breath as well as effect. "I won't waste your time. I wish to have Regent ca'Rudka removed from his position and to have the full powers of the government granted to me."

He saw Odil sit back visibly in his chair, and Sigourney and Aleron exchange carefully-masked glances. "Kraljiki," Aleron began, then stopped to run his tongue over his thick lips. "What you ask . . . well, you are only two years from reaching your legal majority. I know it seems a long time to someone of your age, but two years . . ."

"I'm perfectly aware of that, Councillor ca'Gerodi," Audric said scornfully, his voice interrupted by occasional coughs and pauses for breath. "You were there when Maister ci'Blaylock tested me on the lineage of the Kralji. I know my history, perhaps better than any of you. I would mention Kraljiki Carin . . ."

"Yes, Kraljiki." It was Odil who spoke. "There is an admitted precedent in Carin, but Carin . . ."

" 'But Carin?' " Audric repeated as the man stopped. Odil inhaled deeply as he sat forward in his chair.

"Kraljiki Carin was precocious in nearly every way," Odil continued. He looked down at his fingers, folded in his lap, speaking more to them than to Audric. "With the Kraljiki's pardon, the history of Nessantico is my avocation, and I would say that there were extenuating circ.u.mstances with Carin's extraordinary ascension. At twelve, he was thrust into command of the Garde Civile against the forces of Namarro when his vatarh was killed-and he demonstrated extraordinary skills in that battle. The histories all say that he had the ability to recall everything that he ever heard. He also had Cenzi's Gift, and could use the Ilmodo nearly as well as a war-teni. And Carin's health-" with that, Odil finally looked directly at Audric, "-was excellent."

"And Carin's Regent was himself the one who went to the Council of Ca' to request that the Kraljiki be given full power early," Sigourney added quietly as Audric felt the heat of blood on his cheeks. "Perhaps if Regent ca'Rudka came to us with such a recommendation . . ."

"Ca'Rudka is the problem!" Audric shouted. Gently . . . He heard his great-matarh's voice in his head. Look at their faces, Audric. You frighten them with your power and you must be careful. Use your head. Play them. You want them to listen, you want them to do your bidding. You must sound like an adult, not a petulant child. You must sound reasonable. Make them believe it's in their best interests to do what you ask. Tell them. Tell them all the things we've talked about. . . .

Audric nodded. He coughed, taking a breath and wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his bashta, lifting his other hand to the councillors. "I apologize, Councillors," he said finally. "Please understand that my . . . umm, vehemence comes solely from my deep concern for Nessantico and my worry about the Holdings-and I know you all worry with me." He glanced at Sigourney. "Councillor ca'Ludovici, Regent ca'Rudka will never come to you. Never. The truth is that he intends to remain in power, no matter what my age might be."

"That is a troubling accusation, Kraljiki, to be certain," Sigourney responded. "Do you have proof of this?"

"Like Kraljiki Carin," he answered with a nod to Odil, "I remember what is said in my presence. The Regent has hinted at this to me, and I've heard him whispering to Archigos Kenne when they thought I was asleep or too ill to pay attention. Proof? I have nothing but what I've heard, but I have heard it. There are curious facts as well. Regent ca'Rudka, after all, was the Commandant of the Garde Civile in my vatarh's time, and also head of the Garde Kralji before that. The Regent's handpicked men still provide the security for Nessantico: Commandant cu'Falla with the Garde Kralji and Commandant cu'Ulcai with the Garde Civile. Yet, somehow, not only couldn't they prevent the a.s.sa.s.sination of our beloved Archigos Ana, they both claim that they didn't even know of any plot against her."

"What do you mean, Kraljiki?" Aleron asked. "Are you saying that Regent ca'Rudka . . . ?" He stopped. A pudgy forefinger stroked his bearded chin.

"You all know the rumors regarding Archigos Ana-that she sometimes used the Ilmodo to heal, even though the Divolonte speaks against such practices," Audric told them. "I know those practices to be true, because the Archigos helped me, many times, in just that way. Yes, Councillor ca'Ludovici, I see you nod. I know everyone suspected this. With Archigos Ana dead, why, someone might have believed that I, too, would soon die as well-and that the Council of Ca', in grat.i.tude for long service and given that the direct line of Kraljica Marguerite currently had no issue, might just name the current Regent as Kraljiki in t.i.tle as well as fact. If ca'Rudka waited to act much longer, why, there's the danger that I might marry and have children who could claim the t.i.tle."

He could see them thinking about his accusations, especially his cousin Sigourney ca'Ludovici. Trying to still the coughing, he hurried into the rest. Yes, you have their attention now, he heard his great-matarh say, her voice pleased.

"This has further come to a head because of the continued bad news from the h.e.l.lins," Audric hurried to continue. "Councillor ca'Ludovici, your brother is struggling mightily with the puny resources we've given him. Commandant ca'Sibelli is a fine warrior, unmatched, but still we are being humiliated by the Westlanders: we, Nessantico, the Holdings, the greatest power in the world. These people are little more than savages, yet they are stealing from us the land that the blood of our soldiers sanctified. I have told the Regent that I will not tolerate this. I have told the Regent that I wish to have additional troops and war-teni sent to the h.e.l.lins to help your brother put down this rebellion. Let me ask each of you, has Regent ca'Rudka spoken to any of you of this?" He saw their heads shake silently. "I thought not. He is content to let the h.e.l.lins fall-he has told me as much. He is content to have the great sacrifice of our gardai be wasted. Were I Kraljiki now, I would order the immediate arrest of ca'Rudka. I would put him in the Bastida and have him give us his confession, as he's made others confess over the decades. But if you won't do that, then I suggest you simply ask him. Not about the death of the Archigos or his intentions for me, but about the h.e.l.lins-ask the Regent about our situation there and what he feels our best course might be. Ask him how it is that he knew nothing of the plot against Archigos Ana. Listen carefully to his answers. And when you realize that I tell you the truth about this, you should understand that I'm telling you the truth of the rest as well."

He stood. He could feel his body trembling from the effort, the exhaustion threatening to take him. He seemed to see the three as if through some smoke-stained gla.s.s, and he wanted nothing more than to fall into his bed under the watchful eyes of Marguerite. He had to end this. Quickly. "For now, we're done here," he said. "Talk to ca'Rudka. And after you do, think of what I've said to you."

He bowed to them, then-with as slow and dignified a pace as he could muster-he walked across the room to the door of his bedroom. Marlon opened the door for him.

He managed to wait until it closed behind him to fall into the arms of Seaton.

Sergei ca'Rudka.

"REGENT CA'RUDKA! A moment!"

Sergei turned from the entrance of the Bastida a'Drago. Above him, mortared into the stones of the dreary ramparts, the skull of a dragon's head gaped down with its ma.s.sive jaws open and needled teeth gleaming. The dragon's head, discovered during the building of what had been intended as a defensive bulwark, had given the Bastida its name: Fortress of the Dragon. Now it leered at prisoners entering the dungeon, seeming to laugh as the Bastida devoured them.

Or perhaps it was laughing at all of them: the Numetodo claimed it wasn't a dragon's skull at all, but the skull of an ancient, extinct beast, buried and turned to stone. To Sergei, that was too convoluted a theory to be believable, but then the Numetodo also claimed that the stone seash.e.l.ls found high on the hills around Nessantico were there because in some unimaginably distant past, the mountains were the bottom of a seabed.

The past didn't matter to Sergei. Only the present, and what he could touch and feel and understand.

A carriage had stopped in the Avi a'Parete. Sigourney ca'Ludovici gestured toward Sergei from the window of the vehicle. He bowed to her courteously and walked over to the carriage. "Good morning, Councillor," he said. "You're out early-First Call was barely a turn of the gla.s.s ago."

Her eyes were a startling light gray against the dyed blackness of her hair. He could see the fine lines under the powdered face. "The Council of Ca' met with the Amba.s.sador cu'Gorin of the Coalition this morning, Regent-as your office was informed."

"Ah, yes." Sergei lifted his chin. "I saw the statement Councillor ca'Mazzak put together. He did a fine job of walking the ground between congratulating the new Hirzg and threatening him, and I gave the statement my approval. I'm thinking that Councillor ca'Mazzak would make a fine Amba.s.sador to Brezno, if he were willing. And I think Amba.s.sador cu'Gorin will be suitably irritated by the appointment."

At another time, Sigourney would have laughed at that, but she seemed distracted. Her lips were partially open as if she were waiting to say something else, and her gaze kept moving away from his face to the Bastida's facade. It wasn't his metal nose-Sergei was used to that with strangers, with their gazes either being snared by the silver replica glued to his face, or so aware of it that their gazes slid from his face like skaters on winter ice. But Sigourney had known him for decades. They had never been friends, but neither had they been enemies; in the politics of Nessantico, that was enough. Something's wrong. She's uncomfortable. "What did you really want to ask me, Councillor?" Sergei's question brought her face back to him.

"You know me too well, Regent."

He might know Sigourney, but she didn't know him. No one really knew him; he had never let anyone come that close to his unguarded core, and he was too old to begin now. She would be appalled if she knew what he'd done this morning, in the bowels of the Bastida. "I've had practice at reading people," he told her, with a nod of his head to the dragon on the Bastida's rampart. "It's in the eyes, and the tiny muscles of your face that one can't really control." He tapped his false nose, deliberately. "The flare of your nostrils, for instance. You're troubled by something."

"We've all read the latest report from my brother in the h.e.l.lins," she told him. "That's what troubles me-the situation there."

Sergei put a foot on the step of the carriage, leaning in toward her. The springs of the carriage's suspension groaned and sagged under his weight. "It troubles me as well, Councillor."

"What would you do about it?"

"When one is bleeding badly," he told her, "one is advised to bind the wound. I say that with no criticism of your brother. Commandant ca'Sibelli is doing the best he can with the resources we can spare him, but fighting a determined enemy in their home territory is difficult in the best of circ.u.mstances, and well nigh impossible at this distance."

"Are you suggesting we bind the wound, Regent, as you so fancifully put it, or to flee in disgrace from what is causing the damage?" Her eyebrows lifted with the question, and Sergei hesitated. He knew that Audric had met with Sigourney, Odil, and Aleron-that kind of gossip couldn't be kept quiet in the palais-and he remembered all too well the arguments on the subject he'd had with Audric. Sergei hadn't yet had a chance to broach the subject with any of the Council of Ca'; now it appeared that Audric had done it for him, and he doubted that Audric's view had painted him in complimentary hues.

"Whether there is disgrace in retreat depends," he answered carefully, "on whether you believe that the next wound might be a mortal one."

"Is that what you believe, Regent?" she persisted. "You believe the war in the h.e.l.lins is lost?"

Once, he might have hedged, not certain what was the safest opinion to reveal. As he'd grown older, as he'd gained power, he'd become less inclined to be subtle. "I believe there is a danger of that, yes," he told her. "I've told the young Kraljiki my opinion, and such will be my statement to the Council of Ca' in my next report. So you have a preview of it." He smiled; it took effort. "From the way you speak, Councillor, I suspect the Council is already aware of my feelings. Your prescience is impressive." There was no returning smile; Sigourney's face was impa.s.sive in the shadows of the coach. "Let me give you the rest of it. The worst danger, as I've also said to the Kraljiki, is that in looking west, we are ignoring the East and the Coalition. I take it Audric didn't mention that to you."

She stayed in shadow, her response masked. "You don't advise sending more troops to the h.e.l.lins? Do you advise abandoning what we've gained there?"

Sergei glanced back at the dragon; it seemed to be leering toothily at him. "Why is it that I believe you already know my answers to those questions, Councillor?"

"I would still like to hear them. From your lips."

"Then: no, and yes," he told her flatly. "If we send more troops, we are sending more of our gardai to die across the Strettosei when I am convinced we will need them here, and perhaps sooner than we might like. As for the h.e.l.lins: my experience tells me that another commandant will fare no better than your esteemed brother has. Commandant ca'Helfier, his predecessor, is ultimately responsible for the terrible situation there; it was his bungling and poor judgment that caused the Tehuantin army to become involved in the conflict, and that tipped the balance." Sergei was pleased to see her draw back at that and look away from him, as if the sight of the Pontica ahead of the carriage was suddenly far more interesting. "Our difficulties are the distance, and communication, and a vast enemy who is fighting on their home ground." He tapped the open window of the carriage with his hand. "And an enemy who is now stronger than most of us want to believe. When we took the h.e.l.lins, the Tehuantin stayed in their own lands beyond the mountains, but ca'Helfier's actions caused the natives of the h.e.l.lins to call on their cousins for help. We can call the Westlanders savages and infidels who worship only the Moitidi and set them up as false G.o.ds, but that doesn't alter the truth that their war-teni-through whatever deities they call upon-are at least as effective as our own. Perhaps even more so."

"Some might say you skirt dangerously close to heresy yourself with that statement, Regent," ca'Ludovici told him, making the sign of Cenzi.