Even as his horse ambled within the gates of the ancient city, Borenson saw no sign of guards. Indeed the gatehouse was an indefensible pile of stones that had collapsed hundreds of years before. The piled-up stones of what he'd thought was the palace looked upon closer inspection to be a fine abode for scorpions and adders.

Everywhere he went, large gray lizards sunned on stones. They dashed off at his approach. Birds were plentiful, desert sparrows among the greasewood, yellow-crested flycatchers dipping along the trail.

There is water here, he realized. Animals would not be so plentiful otherwise. Yet he could see no sign of water, no wells, no lush trees growing in profusion.

He rode through the streets of the city, up to a large ancient ruin, a state house or manor of some kind, and the Invincible led him, still ahorse, right into the building, as if they'd not bother to dismount upon entering a lord's throne room.

Inside the manor, the roof had collapsed The walls had once been brightly painted with murals of ancient lords in long white silk coats, all of whom seemed to have curiously curly hair. But now the sun had bleached the murals to the point that in most places only a few faded earth-toned pigments still showed.

Finally, Borenson saw evidence of life. At the far wall to the throne room, someone had recently dug through, revealing a small, narrow chasm.

At this end, the chasm was dark, but ahead he could see that it opened wider, for sunlight filtered down to light the path ahead.

Now he saw the guards.

Two Invincibles stepped from the shadows and began speaking loudly to Pashtuk in a dialect of Indhopalese that Borenson could not follow. Pashtuk showed them the forcibles and described Borenson's message. In broken Rofehavanish, the Invincibles offered the normal death threats that Borenson was beginning to realize const.i.tuted the majority of any guard's conversation in this country.

Borenson was so weary after having lost endowments that he frankly did not care if they killed him or not.

One Invincible ran through the chasm to bear the message that Borenson sought an audience. When he returned twenty minutes later, Borenson left his horse behind as the guards ushered him ahead.

The first thing he noted as he entered the narrow ravine was the smell of wet earth and lush vegetation. An oasis had to be ahead.

He walked through the chasm, looking up at the golden shafts of sunlight that played on the yellow sandstone. The walls of the cliff were over one hundred feet high, and all the light that reached the chasm floor now, so late in the day, reflected from the walls above.

The chasm walls were smooth, creamy in color. Borenson imagined that this place had been hidden for thousands of years, and was only newly discovered.

Odd, he thought. Terribly odd, that water, such a precious commodity here in the desert, would be lost for so long a time. He wondered at the story. What lord had hidden this oasis, walled up the entrance behind his throne? And how had the presence of the water ever been forgotten?

The chasm wound like a serpent through the hills, and spilled into a small triangular valley. To the east and west, high cliffs reared up, meeting in a V three miles farther to the south. To the north hunkered a ridge of broken rock that no beast could have traversed.

And here in the hidden valley, beside a small lake where palm trees grew in abundance, squatted the palace that Borenson had dreamed of.

Its cream-colored exterior walls rose forty feet, while the square guard towers at odd intervals each rose forty more. Over the palace spanned an enormous central dome, open to the air around the sides, so that it would serve as a veranda under the stars. The dome was all plated in gold, while copper plating served to highlight the tower walls. With the blue of the lake, the vibrant emerald of the gra.s.s, the lush palms, and the strands of wild honeysuckle and jasmine that trailed up the palace walls, in some ways it was perhaps the most exquisite palace Borenson had ever seen. It was simple, yet elegant.

Borenson approached the palace in manacles, lugging his bundle of forcibles. A thousand forcibles weighed about ninety pounds, and without his endowments of brawn, Borenson found himself grunting and panting from exertion long before he reached the palace.

Pashtuk stopped him at the palace gate, a huge portal of blackened wrought iron backed by gold-plated wood He could not see past the gate, so Borenson stared about in wonder at the dozens of hummingbirds that flitted about, drinking from the deep-throated flowers that dripped saffron and pink from the palace wall.

Borenson could not see beyond the gate, but he could hear the splash of a fountain behind it.

A guard standing above the gate spoke in a loud, high voice to Borenson in Tuulistanese.

Pashtuk translated. "The eunuch says that Saffira will entertain you here in the courtyard. He will open the gate so that you may speak. By royal decree, you must not to look upon her. If you choose to do so, by king's command you may be slain." In a softer voice, he added, "However, I should warn you that if Saffira decides to intervene in your behalf, that sentence can be commuted, and instead she may elect to have you castrated, so that you can remain in the palace as her servant."

Borenson snickered. He had never seen a woman with more than ten endowments of glamour, had never even considered the possibility, but he understood the danger. A man who took glamour might be terribly handsome, but Borenson had never felt any s.e.xual attraction to such a man, even Raj Ahten's astonishing beauty left him cold-though he knew others who could not say the same. So he'd never struggled with his feelings when looking upon a lord.

Sometimes, when he saw a queen or high lady with several endowments of glamour, he'd found himself striving against certain unsavory temptations. A woman's glamour affected him far more powerfully than a man's. But though Borenson admired women, he'd always felt that high ladies with several endowments of glamour were above him, untouchable, so gorgeous that they seemed more than human. Saffira, with her hundreds of endowments, presented an exquisite temptation.

"I'll forgo the pleasure," Borenson said. "I've always been somewhat attached to my walnuts."

"I also am loath to sever such attachments," Pashtuk said.

Borenson grinned. Pashtuk nodded a signal. The guards cranked the winch, raising the gate.

"Close your eyes tight," Pashtuk warned, dropping down to his hands and knees in a formal gesture of obeisance. "Squint, so that the guards know that you do not see. Since you are a northerner, they may seek excuse to kill you. Indeed, they could offer you a blindfold, but they may prefer to have a reason to kill you."

Borenson squinted tightly and felt a bit unsure of himself. Courtly manners differed from land to land. Saffira's stature was hard to define. As a member of a royal harem, she was not quite as elevated in status as a queen. She would not have a Days at her side. Yet she was also Raj Ahten's favorite, a diamond that he secreted away.

Borenson decided to treat her as a queen. He wearily climbed down to his hands and knees on the hot, sun washed paving stones, so that his nose was even with the ants.

It was a difficult feat, wearing manacles.

To his astonishment, when Saffira spoke, her clear voice came to him in Rofehavanish, with only the faintest trace, of an accent.

"Welcome, Sir Borenson," she said. "Never have we had a visitor from Rofehavan. It is a singular pleasure. I am delighted to see that the tales are true, that there are men in the world with pale skin and fire for hair." He listened hard to her voice. It was soft and sensual, melodic and surprisingly deep. He imagined that Saffira must be an elegant woman, with dozens of endowments of Voice. Furthermore, since she spoke Rofehavanish so perfectly without ever having seen a man from his realm, he suspected that she also had garnered one or more endowments of wit.

Saffira drew close, the rustle of a woman's silks announcing her. In moments her shadow fell upon him, blocking the sun's rays, and he smelled a mild, exotic perfume. Borenson did not answer, for she had not yet given him permission to speak.

"What is this?" Saffira asked "You have brown spots upon your head! Are these tattoos?"

Borenson nearly laughed Apparently her study of language was not all encompa.s.sing. Now that she had asked a question, he was free to speak. "The spots are natural, Your Highness," Borenson said "They are called freckles.' "

"Freckles?" she said "But are not the spots on trout called freckles'?"

"In northern realms of Rofehavan, they are called that, Your Highness, though in Mystarria and the southern realms we call such spots speckles.' "

"I see," Saffira said, amused. "So even in your own lands, you cannot agree what to call them."

Borenson heard the patter of small feet. Children were coming out of the courtyard, drawing close.

"Sir Borenson," Saffira said, "my children are curious. They have never seen a man of Rofehavan, and are naturally afraid. My eldest living son wishes permission to touch you. Do you object?"

Borenson had dragged the head of a reaver to the gates of Castle Sylvarresta only yesterday. Children and even many old people had gathered around to study. it. Women had touched its rubbery gray flesh and screamed in mock terror. Now, he realized, the children here would do the same to him.

Have we sent so many a.s.sa.s.sins to this realm, he wondered, that they fear me so?

But of course the answer was yes. These children had been born here, hidden all their lives. And many a Knight Equitable, if he'd known of this "eldest living son," would have considered the boy a proper target. Indeed, Borenson wondered what had happened to the eldest nonliving son.

"Your children are welcome to touch me," Borenson said. "Though I am a Knight Equitable, I will not hurt them"

Saffira spoke quickly and softly to the boy, and the child groaned to hear that Borenson was a Knight Equitable. With hesitant steps he drew near and tentatively touched the bald spot on Borenson's head, then raced away. Immediately after, Borenson heard the steps of a smaller child come rushing forward, and again he was touched. Last of all came a toddler, a child who could not have been more than a year or two, who grabbed Borenson's hair and patted him as if he were a kitten.

Three children, Borenson realized. Jureem had said that Saffira had been Raj Ahten's favorite for five years. He had not allowed himself to wonder if she'd borne him one child, much less three.

At his mother's command, the youngest child withdrew.

"You have a message for me, and a gift?" Saffira said.

"I do, Your Highness," Borenson answered, aware that he was being treated with some hostility. Custom dictated that she offer him food and drink before asking his quest, even if such offers were only an informal gesture. But Saffira made no such offer. "I have come from Heredon, with a gift and a message from Gaborn Val Orden, the Earth King."

There was a long pause, and Saffira drew a sharp breath. Borenson realized that she had not heard, here in this remote place, that an Earth King had risen in Heredon.

"But Heredon is ruled by King Sylvarresta, is it not?" Saffira asked.

"We are at war," Borenson said. "Your husband attacked--"

"He would not have killed King Sylvarresta!" Saffira said, "I forbade him to. He promised leniency. Sylvarresta was a friend to my father!"

All the air came hard out of Borenson's lungs, causing him to cough in surprise. It was true that Raj Ahten had shown Sylvarresta uncommon courtesy, had taken his endowment of wit instead of his life. But never in Borenson's wildest imaginings had he considered the possibility that a woman's influence had won Sylvarresta such a reprieve.

Now. he began to wonder. He'd thought he'd come on a fool's quest, seeking to speak to Saffira at Gaborn's insistence. Had not Pashtuk said it best when he suggested that Gaborn was a weakling for listening to the counsel of women?

Yet it appeared that Saffira could sway Raj Ahten.

"Your Highness," Borenson admitted, "your husband was true to his word. Raj Ahten did not kill King Sylvarresta."

"Can you name the warrior who killed him?" Saffira said. "I will see that he is punished."

Borenson dared not speak the truth. He dared not say, "I, who kneel before you, slew King Sylvarresta." He only hoped that the red of embarra.s.sment did not show in his face.

Instead he averred, "I cannot say, Your Highness. I know only this, Gaborn Val Orden is in Heredon, and he has been chosen by the Earth to become its king."

Saffira paused. "Gaborn Val Orden--the Prince of Mystarria--claims to be an Earth King?"

"It is true, Your Highness," Borenson said. "The spirit of Erden Geboren himself appeared to a company of more than ten thousand men, and the spirit crowned Gaborn with leaves."

She whirled and began shouting at the gatekeepers in Taifan. Borenson could easily guess the nature of her question: "Why was I not told?"

The eunuchs made apologetic noises.

Saffira turned her attention back to Borenson. "This is grave news. And you say that the Earth King has sent me gifts and a message?"

"He has, Your Highness," Borenson said. He opened the bag of forcibles, and spread them on the ground gently so that the soft blood metal would not dent. "He offers you gifts of glamour and of Voice."

Saffira drew an astonished breath at the sight of so many forcibles. It was an impressive gift "And he bears this message. Gaborn has recently wed Iome Sylvarresta, so that he is now your husband's cousin by marriage. There is news of reavers attacking in the south of Mystarria, and in Kartish. The Earth King wishes to put aside this conflict with your lord Raj Ahten, and he begs you to carry this message: Though I hate my cousin, the enemy of my cousin is my enemy."

When Saffira drew a breath of astonishment, the sound was pure ecstasy. Sir Borenson waited for her answer. She knew what he asked. She knew that she would have to put the forcibles to use, travel to the battlefront in Rofehavan.

"The men who killed my son wish a truce?" Saffira asked. Borenson silently cursed. Jureem had not mentioned a murdered son: "We do," Borenson answered, as if he himself bore some responsibility for her son's death.

"If my husband agrees to this," Saffira asked, "does that mean that you will quit sending the Knights Equitable against us? Will you quit slaughtering our Dedicates, and the members of the royal family? Does the Earth King have that much power?"

Borenson hesitated. It was common here in Indhopal to insist on conditions when making a bargain, in hopes of getting stronger a.s.surances. The woman wanted confirmation that she and her children would no longer have to face the fear of murder at the hands of the Knights Equitable. It was a fair request.

But Gaborn had refused to Choose the High Marshal of the Knights Equitable, though High Marshal Skalbairn had offered to turn over command of his troops. Could Gaborn truly claim to command the Knights Equitable?

The answer was both no and yes. Gaborn did not currently command that force, but he could do so if he chose.

Still, Saffira would not want to hear, a no. Could he promise her safety? Would Gaborn offer to Choose the High Marshal, if doing so would guarantee a truce?'

What had Gaborn seen in the High Marshal's heart that made him wish the man dead Borenson felt certain that no matter what foul deeds Skalbairn had committed, Gaborn would surely Choose him if he understood how much was at stake. The answer was yes.

"The command of the Knights Equitable has been offered to the Earth King," Borenson said, skirting the truth. "Gaborn Val Orden would ensure peace."

"Where is my husband now?" Saffira asked. Borenson noted that it was not the first time she had called him "my husband." So the woman was married to him. She was indeed more than a mere concubine, she was the Queen of Indhopal.

"Raj Ahten slew the Dedicates at the Blue Tower in Mystarria more than two hours ago," Borenson said. "I believe he will ride hard now to slaughter Duke Paladane's troops, which are ama.s.sed at Carris."

Again Saffira drew in a sharp breath. She had to see how much depended on her. An entire nation now lay at her husband's mercy, like a convict with his head on the chopping block. At this very moment, Raj Ahten would be racing for Carris. The axe was falling; perhaps she alone could stop it.

"Carris is far," Saffira said. "If I am to take endowments and ride there, we. must hurry."

"Please, do," Borenson said.

She sighed deeply, as if she'd made up her mind. With a hint of desperation, she said, "My lord has drawn most of the palace guard off into his service. I have no one to escort me to Carris, no one but my personal guards to guide the way, and I fear that I will need the guidance of a soldier of Mystarria."

Borenson dreaded' what was coming. Of course she'd need him. A cohort of riders coming out of Indhopal would face the risk of ambush by Mystarrian troops. And Borenson knew full well that even if Saffira carried a standard of truce, the soldiers at his borders were no more likely to honor such a truce as Indhopal's guards had been.

She needed him. He'd imagined that she'd ride with a thousand troops at her side, that once he delivered his message, he'd be free to leave.

Saffira said heavily, regretfully, "Pashtuk, Sir Borenson, would you escort me to Carris? Knowing the cost, would you enter my service?"

Borenson felt dizzy. Of course he was her best choice for a guide, her only choice if she wanted to reach Carris alive. But the price?

He was newly married. He loved his wife.

To give up his manhood! The very thought left him reeling, made him feel weak as a babe. Worse, it filled him, with a sense of profound loss. What if I should never be able to consummate my love for my wife?

Could I do it? Dare I do it, even for Mystarria?

Pashtuk answered first. His answer was restrained, but spoken with a certain heaviness. "I will do so, if it pleases Your Highness."

Borenson hedged, seeking escape. "Your Highness," he apologized, "I fear that I cannot. Unlike Pashtuk, I have no endowments of brawn or stamina. If I were to give up my manhood, I could not ride a horse for six yards, much less six hundred miles!"

Pashtuk was an Invincible, with endowments of stamina and brawn. He might give up his manhood, and though the ride a few hours later would be painful, he could probably accomplish it. But Borenson could never manage such a feat.

"Of course," Saffira said, "I would be lenient on you, Sir Borenson. I would forbear the requirements until after I have reached my lord."

On fast horses, he realized, they would reach Carris sometime tomorrow, near dawn.

At dawn he would pay the price, if he agreed.

The thought unnerved him. Yet he was a warrior of Mystarria, bred to battle, and his people needed him. He had no choice.

"Your Highness, I will," he offered, proud of the fact that his voice did not quaver.

"Then, Pashtuk, Sir Borenson, look upon me," Saffira said.