Saravio took that moment to intone, "It is the will of Naotalba."

"Naotalba," Callina repeated in a dreamy voice. "I remember hearing that name as a child, in stories meant to frighten us. I always imagined her as a tragic figure, the Bride of Zandru of the Seven Frozen Hells. Now she seems so comforting."

"Much of what we were taught as children changes in the light of truth,"

Romilla said. "If Naotalba represents a descent into hell, then she also brings us hope, for she is a bridge between the human and the divine."

"But she doesn't exist, not really," Callina protested.

"To Sandoval she does," Eduin said. "Perhaps she is only a symbol that allows him to focus his vision and insight, for there is no question that he can see many things beyond the scope of ordinary men."

"Has he the gift of Allart Hastur, to see into the future?" Callina asked.

"Saravio's vision does not lie in a heritage of strange laran from the breeding programs during the Ages of Chaos," Eduin hastened to say, for Callina had come uncomfortably close to the truth. It was one thing to pres- ent Saravio as a man touched by the gods, whatever they might be, and entirely another to arouse the suspicion he might be a renegade laranzu. "In the end, what difference does it make what Naotalba is, so long as she protects us against our enemies?"

"We must stand together in these perilous times, Kirella and Valeron side by side," Romilla said breathlessly. She slipped her hand confidentially through Callina's elbow. "You must help us."

Callina blushed and looked confused, for she was, after all, very young. "I am sworn to the Queen's service, but whatever I can do, I will."

During the days that followed, Eduin found many opportunities to interact with Callina and others of the court. Courtiers here, as elsewhere, were always alert for the latest rumor or hint of favoritism, possibility for advancement or influence. Within a few hours of their arrival, Eduin had sensed the first tendrils of their curiosity. The stableman whispered to his friends, as did the chambermaids who served Romilla and Callina.

A word dropped here and there, accompanied by a psychic nudge, was enough to fuel the growing fascination with Saravio. Eduin soon heard of miracle healings, of clairvoyant trances, of haloes of light surrounding the holy man.

Before long, stories of "the Blessed Sandoval"

reached beyond the servants' quarters. One morning, a page knocked on the door of the room Eduin and Saravio shared. One of the Queen's ladies-in- waiting had a headache, and, having heard how Romilla had been cured of a terrible affliction, begged him to come to her aid.

Eduin doubted the lady had any ailment beyond those generated by boredom, rich food, and confined living space. "Come," he told Saravio, "the disbelievers call upon us once more to prove Naotalba's power."

At these words, as at every mention of the name of the demigoddess, Saravio's eyes brightened. "They, too, will come to know and serve her. Lead me to them."

The lady and her own attendants received them in a surprisingly comfortable room in the royal wing. Like much of Valeron Castle, its walls were fine-grained stone polished to a soft gloss, the furnishings pale wood, cushions and drapes a pastel shade of gray-green. Bowls of white rosalys scented the air.

The dough-faced matron, encased in layers of silver-edged lace over Aillard scarlet and gray, sat moaning and wiping her forehead with an embroidered handkerchief. Her chair, a graceful piece, seemed more suited to a young damisela than one of her girth. Beside her, an equally elegant table held a platter of delicacies, the kind of concentrated sweet foods Eduin had often eaten after strenuous work in a Tower circle.

He bowed while the page announced them and pronounced the lady's name.

Eduin realized with a start that she was Linella Marzan, the wife of Julianna's formidable general.

"Oh, my head is very bad," the lady whimpered to Saravio. "I have such palpitations in my breast, I can find no ease. I do not think any power can cure me, but sweet Romilla, the dear girl, said that your singing brought her so much help. What can it hurt?"

She paused to scoop up a handful of sugared nuts. "It is for my nerves," she said, noticing Eduin's gaze.

"I am so sensitive, you see, that every possible little thing devastates me.

You see the condition I am reduced to. The slightest disturbance in the etheric aura! I should have been trained at a Tower, only my health would not permit it. I could never withstand the stress."

She paused briefly to eat the nuts and fan herself with her limp handkerchief. Eduin murmured how fortunate Her Majesty was to have such a talented lady-in-waiting.

"Oh, yes, she quite depends upon me. And now you know how important- how essential it is that I maintain my health. My head torments me most cruelly. I don't suppose there is any help for it. I never complain, but bear my affliction as best I can. It is the price of talent such as mine, to bear such burdens. Ah!" She heaved an enormous sigh.

Eduin made a few reassuring comments and then began arranging the room, placing chairs for Saravio and the lady's attendants and deftly removing the table of food. He did not want any competing pleasures once Saravio had begun singing. One of the attendants, a pretty girl from one of the minor noble houses, brought out a small bowed viol and seated herself on a tufted stool at the lady's feet. Clearly, one of her duties was to play and sing for her mistress.

Lady Linella continued to bemoan her sufferings even as Saravio began singing. She had no strength of will or personality to resist, but slipped easily into the state of euphoria. The girl with the viol provided a simple harmony. She bent over her instrument, her cheeks flushed, eyes dreamy.

When the lady was secured, Eduin skimmed the surface of her thoughts. He searched for some bit of memory or fragment of conversation, anything that would tell him how much influence she had over her husband, or even the things he might confide in her. Perhaps the general spoke to her in bed, or when he was weary with the cares of his position. Even a silly old woman might make a sympathetic listener.

Eduin found little of any immediate use. Eventually, he might induce her to drop a phrase or two, a pointed question, a mention of Varzil in a negative context. He decided that the best course was to create a dependence upon Saravio. It would be simple enough to do, given her initial susceptibility. He would leave her with a mental suggestion of well-being and many reassurances of being at her service.

She might think of Saravio's singing as an enjoyable pastime until she tried to do without it. Then the craving would begin. She might fight it for a time, if she had the wit to realize what it was, but in the end, she would lose.

Then you will do anything to hear Sandoval the Blessed sing for you again.

Even if Lady Linella proved to know nothing, she would tell her friends.

More would come to hear the healing song, and some of them might have influence over powerful men. Perhaps word would reach the Queen herself....

On the night of the Midsummer Festival feast, Romilla and her father sat in the places of honor at the royal table. The hall was bedecked in wreaths of straw and field flowers. Tables creaked under the massed weight of the food.

Roasted stuffed fowl and platters of artistically arranged, honey-glazed vegetables sat beside baked casseroles of mushrooms and cheeses carved like flowers. The centerpiece was a sculpture of an eagle in silver-foil- covered peaches and apricots, its wings edged in crimson cherries to reproduce the Aillard colors. Windows stood open, so that the lingering twilight filled the air with a pearly radiance. Ladies, even Queen Julianna herself, wore garlands of flowers, and tiny berib-boned baskets of fruit had been set beside each woman's place.

Eduin and Saravio had been relegated to a lower table, along with those guests unworthy of royal notice.

Above the murmur of the crowd, Eduin heard Romilla exclaim in a high, girlish voice, "I, who am heir to Kirella, fell ill with melancholy some winters ago. Neither our household leronis nor the physician could heal me.

It was not until this man, Sandoval the Blessed-" she gestured to the lower tables, where Saravio and Eduin sat,"-came to us that I emerged from the dark time. Not only that, my father watched with his own eyes as Sandoval healed a mortal wound."

"Extraordinary," one of Julianna's councillors said.

The Queen's voice rose above the others. "We shall see. Is that the man, seated at the lower table with his interpreter?"

Saravio, as if sensing her attention, began to rise from his seat. Eduin grabbed Saravio's arm and pulled him down, too late. The Queen gestured them forward.

"Come here, fellow, so I can see you properly."

Eduin bowed deeply, doing his best to imitate the awkward effacement of a poor man among his betters. Saravio held himself proudly, regarding the Queen with a level gaze. She might be the Lady of Valeron, but in Saravio's eyes, she was no match for Naotalba.

Lord Brynon stirred. "Vai domna, will you not hear this man? Truly, he has restored my daughter to health and strength when all other help had failed.

In doing so, he himself became the target of a nefarious plot that even now stretches out its grasp for all of Valeron."

Hope and exultation flared in Eduin's mind. Impolitic as it was to introduce such a serious topic at a festive meal, Lord Brynon had done it, and in such a way that no suspicion of influence could fall upon either Saravio or Eduin.

Julianna regarded Aillard, one eyebrow raised. "Pray continue."

"An attempt was made upon the life of Sandoval the Blessed by that same physician who failed so miserably to cure my daughter. In fact, I have since come to suspect that his ministrations contributed to her decline."

"And you believe this physician was part of a larger plan?" the Lady inquired.

Zandru, she was sharp! Eduin's heart beat faster and he leaned forward, muscles tensing. Cold sweat damped the palms of his hands. Go on, he silently urged the Aillard lord, say it!

"Under questioning, the physician revealed his affiliation with none other than the Keeper, Varzil Ridenow," Lord Brynon announced, drawing himself up to his fullest.

"And this is the basis upon which you suppose a plot?" The eyebrow hitched a fraction higher.

"Surely you must see the pattern. Varzil's machinations are everywhere, from the shores of Hali to the Tower at Cedestri. He may already have infiltrated this very castle and suborned your own people even as he did mine-"

The Queen cut him off with a sharp, humorless laugh that sent Eduin wincing. "Really, Aillard, you must not go imagining schemes and plots everywhere, simply because you have an incompetent physician. Of course, this wandering entertainer would concoct such an accusation in order to advance his own position. Such men can have considerable power of persuasion. They are useful enough in counteracting the vapors of young girls, but no one of any strength of character takes them seriously. Mind you watch that his influence does not grow beyond the ladies' bower, or the results will be your disgrace and not his."

Lord Brynon flushed. Anger shimmered like an aura around him. Eduin thought that if Julianna had been a man, even an overlord, Aillard would have struck her.

Julianna continued, "I think it best that neither he nor his companion be allowed to attend any further councils, lest they seek to use what they overhear to their own advantage. They are servants; let them keep to their own while they are within the borders of Valeron. As for your charges, you cannot expect me to take such things seriously. There are few things more pathetic than the blame-mongering of a lord who cannot keep his servants in proper order."

With a visible effort, Aillard mastered his temper and, bowing, made another attempt.

"What you say is true, and would be my own shame, were it not for the testimony given under oath-under truthspell. The traitor admitted his reverence for Varzil the Good. That cannot be explained away as mere jealousy."

For a moment, Julianna looked thoughtful. "The Keeper of Neskaya Tower may be many things, but a fool he is not, and only a simpleton would use such a weak instrument as your physician seems to be. No, I think you had best look to more ordinary causes for the unrest in your household."

When it looked like Aillard would rouse himself to one more effort, she said, "We will hear no more of this, kinsman."

As Aillard murmured apologies, Eduin pulled Saravio back to their places at the lower table. It was going to be even more difficult than he'd thought to influence Julianna.

The Midsummer festivities continued long into the night. The windows of the great hall had been thrown open, and the multihued pastel light of three of Darkover's four moons flooded in, to blend with the glow of torches and the cold blue light of a few costly laran-charged glows. Professional dancers, minstrels, and jugglers performed, most more enthusiastic than talented.

Every woman present received the traditional basket of fruit and flowers, in remembrance of the gifts that Hastur, son of Aldones Lord of Light, presented to his beloved Cassilda. A pile of baskets, many of them elaborately gilded and beribboned, overflowed the foot of Julianna's throne. Romilla received a number from her father, General Marzan's son, and several male admirers.

It had been long since Eduin had any woman to whom to present a Midsummer gift. He had no sisters and had never known his mother. The only basket he had prepared with any delight was for Dyannis, and she was better forgotten. He could have, following the older custom, left a small token for Romilla or Callina to discover outside their doors, but he had lost the habit of thinking of such things. It had been too long since he had felt any such bonds of love.

Eduin and Saravio crept away while the dancing, begun sedately with the older couples leading the promenas, turned wilder and more licentious.

Lord Brynon, after dancing an obligatory round or two with Queen Julianna and his daughter, had retreated to a corner where he proceeded to get thoroughly drunk. The smell of the wine, combined with the heady blossoms and swath of moonlight, felt both intoxicating and nauseating to Eduin.

There was too much temptation, too much danger in the swirls of tartan and gown, the bright cheeks of the ladies, the clash of goblets and voices raised in raucous song.

What was the old proverb, that nothing that happened under the four moons need be regretted? Or was it the opposite, that much of what came about in the wild celebration of such times lingered for a lifetime?

There were not four moons in the sky on this Midsummer Festival. The gods had held back that final benediction; whatever happened now became entirely the responsibility of men.

There was no one from whom to beg leave to depart, certainly not Lord Brynon. Romilla was dancing with General Marzan's hatchet-jawed son.

Exercise and wine flushed her cheeks and she giggled as he held her closer than was seemly for someone not her promised husband. The sight disgusted Eduin. He took Saravio by the arm and guided him back to their quarters.

As Eduin led Saravio back to their room, he fumed inwardly. He could not rely on Lord Brynon or anyone else to convince the Queen of Valeron to search out and destroy his enemies. Julianna was too crafty and strong- willed to be subject to any man's influence. She would never start a war with Carolin, but she might be persuaded to eliminate Varzil if she believed he was the real threat. Now, more than ever, Eduin needed Saravio.

Saravio lay down on one of the narrow beds. His eyes were open and he lay as if in a trance. This present lassitude boded ill. What if Saravio were to fall into a coma, as he had upon their arrival at Kirella? Or, worse yet, suffer a seizure where he might be seen?

"The storm is nearer now," Saravio whispered. "Can you not feel it?"

Eduin lowered his mental shields to search Saravio's thoughts. He caught the fleeting image of fire rising against the sky, and the sweep of a shadowy cloak.

Good, he decided. That feeling of dread, of impending doom, was one he could use.

He went to the cot and sat beside Saravio. By tightening his throat, he made his voice hoarse and rasping. "I have terrible news."

Eyes widening, Saravio lifted his head.

"I have discovered that our enemy, Varzil Ridenow, is on the move. The Tower at Cedestri-" Eduin paused minutely, caught the flicker of recognition, for it was at this Tower Saravio had first trained, and plunged on, "-sent a vicious attack against our friends here. You remember, we heard as much at Robardin's Fort. In retaliation, Cedestri was destroyed-"

"As it deserved!"

"Indeed," Eduin went on. "But what we did not know was that Varzil himself went to rebuild the Tower."

"Varzil? Rebuild Cedestri?" Shaking his head, Saravio sat up. "Why would he do that? They were not worth saving after they turned away from Naotalba."

"Why, indeed?" Eduin said. "What profit might Varzil reap for his trouble, except to make alliance with the new Tower? Can you not see? This way, the malefactors will join forces with Varzil against Naotalba's loyal servants.

You know that Varzil seeks to put an end to anyone who follows her. He is creeping up on us, extending his power over one land after another." Eduin waited for the impact of his argument to sink in.

"Varzil-he brings the fire?" Saravio asked.

"Yes! He brings the fire!" Eduin repeated, and felt the answering leap of anguish in Saravio. He jabbed at Saravio's mind, intensifying the fear arid hatred.

"He must not-" Saravio stumbled over his words, almost babbling in terror.

"Must not-"

"Naotalba will not forsake her faithful," Eduin shifted to a reassuring voice.

"We must do our part. We must stand against Varzil and the agents of Cedestri, who turned against Naotalba and cast you, her chosen, out. Here in Valeron, there is the strength to do so, if only there is the will."

"We must persuade them!" Saravio cried. "But how? What must we do?"

Eduin bowed his head in a gesture of reverence and held it for a long moment. "We must pray for her guidance. Perhaps she will speak to us in dreams or visions, as she has so many times before. Rest now, that you may receive her word."

"Receive her word," Saravio echoed. "Rest."

Eduin lowered the other man to the bed and helped him into a comfortable position. He brushed his fingers over Saravio's eyelids, closing them.

Saravio's brief spurt of energy faded, leaving him in an even deeper state of lassitude.

"Sleep," Eduin whispered, reinforcing the command with his mind. "Sleep."

Within a short time, Saravio fell into a deep slumber. Eduin felt the change as Saravio's breathing shifted, deeper now and slow. Saravio's mind lay open and vulnerable. He would not resist. He would surrender willingly.

Eduin got up and began pacing, using the movement to harden his resolve.

Bile stung his throat at the thought of what he must do. In desperation, he asked himself if there were any other way, if he could not just let events take their natural course. Sooner or later, Queen Julianna or some other powerful ruler would tire of Varzil's interference, or perhaps some bandit or outlaw would seize upon him as easy prey.