Upon Isoldir's arrival, Eduin and Saravio crowded into the central hall, jammed in behind the mass of courtiers and more highly-placed servants.

Romilla stood near the front, beside her father. Of Julianna, Eduin could see only the curve of pale gray that was her throne and a drape of ice-blue brocade gown. He could hear nothing above the chattering of the courtiers, not even when the Isoldir envoy began to speak. In frustration, he tried to push past a tall, thick-muscled armsman.

"Keep back, or you'll find yourself outside with the pigs," the man growled, adding a phrase indicating Eduin was no more than a lady's plaything.

Eduin bit back a reply. Saravio touched his sleeve and bent toward him.

"Naotalba is at work here. I can sense her presence."

Instead of trying to hear and see, Eduin reached out with his laran. He dared not drop his psychic barriers entirely, for that would leave him open to the barrage of emotions from the crowd. Instead, he focused narrowly on Romilla. He knew the pattern of her thoughts, the imprint of her visions of Naotalba and fire. The despair that had once spurred her to seek release in death had receded to a shadow, dormant.

Images formed at the back of Eduin's mind, hazy and indistinct, but without question those from Romilla's own eyes. When he caught a phrase or two, he heard it echoed, more clearly, from her ears.

The introductions were drawing to a close. Eduin caught enough of the speeches to realize the head emissary was none other than Dom Ronal, Lord of Isoldir. The answering exclamations of surprise and suspicion drowned out what came next and snapped Eduin's tenuous telepathic rapport with Romilla.

Fuming in frustration, he tried to reestablish the bond, but there was too much confusion, too many churning thoughts. Pandemonium battered him.

He flinched under the onslaught, his laran senses reeling. He slammed his barriers into place, as hard and tight as if he were back at Arilinn. For a long moment, his vision went dark, so intense was his inner concentration.

His neighbor, a heavy-set man in Aillard household livery, shoved him, snarling, "Watch it!"

Eduin gestured an apology. The nearness of so many-people rasped along his nerves. For most of his adult life, he had either lived in a Tower, where casual physical touch was forbidden, or else he had been too sodden drunk to care. Not even his laran barriers could shield him from being shoved from every direction or the smell and heat of so many bodies. In this commotion, he dared not risk another attempt at mental contact.

Having wrestled his aggravation under control, Eduin shifted to ordinary senses. There wasn't much to learn, although he had no trouble gleaning those few events from the mutterings of those closer to the throne.

Dom Ronal had indeed presented himself to Julianna, and under flag of truce. She had offered him a guarded welcome and protection, suitable for one who had been an enemy and whose current intentions were unclear. He and his men had been given quarters that, while undoubtedly heavily guarded, were nonetheless appropriate for his rank.

Julianna rose, indicating that the audience was at an end. The Isoldir contingent bowed deeply and withdrew under their escort. With their departure and that of the Queen, the rest of the crowd began to disperse.

"What did they come for?" one of the house servants near Eduin asked.

"You'd have thought they already learned their lesson."

The other, the burly man who had shoved Eduin, shook his head, replying, "They arrived under truce, didn't you hear? Whatever it is, we'll hear once the Lady has dealt with them."

Eduin, having left Saravio safely in their chambers, paced the public halls where courtiers gathered and gossip was to be heard. He had long discovered that he was, like any other servant, regarded as invisible, but he heard little of substance. One graybeard insisted that Julianna was even now torturing Dom Ronal, or at least forcing him to watch the torture of his kinsmen, in order to gain knowledge of their true mission at Valeron. Oth- ers insisted that the Isoldir party had come to arrange a marriage treaty of Damisela Marelie, Julianna's heir, to one of Ronal's sons or possibly to the Isoldir lord himself.

Eduin had come to trust the servants more than the perfumed, beribboned sycophants. He went down to the stables, put on a canvas smock, and lent a hand caring for the Isoldir horses. Julianna was taking no chances, and had arranged to take the beasts under her own control.

"Now, why would the Lady want to throw away such an advantage, and on a man she could have beat into the ground?" the stableman snorted at the idea of a marriage alliance. He bent to examine the near hind hoof of the roach-maned dun he was grooming.

"Will you look at this? Poor beastie's got a crack right through the wall. Bad shoeing job, too. I'll get the smith to make him a better, 'fore he's lamed for good."

Eduin straightened up from picking out the feet of the next horse. Neither mount was of the quality he would expect from the lord of even as small a kingdom as Isoldir. Any noble who could command even a single aircar could certainly afford better horses. There was the one with the damaged hoof, his own a swayback with crooked hocks, and the next had one opaque, whitened eye. None of them, he judged, were fit for battle, but they were probably the best to be had. He said aloud that, given the state of their mounts, he doubted the Isoldir party was in a position to bargain for anything.

The stableman slapped the rump of the dun, who turned his head and began playfully nibbling on the man's hair. Laughing, the stableman went on to the next, the blind-eyed mare.

"If you take my meaning, Isoldir's come to keep what the Lady's left him with, but I can't think what he might offer her that she can't take for herself.

Oh, if he's worth anything, they'll be parleying long and hard on this one, I can tell you that much."

"Privately, I suppose," Eduin said in a careless tone.

"And how else, for the likes of us with wagging tongues and knowing aught but how to keep their horses sound?"

Eduin bent to his work, currying away the dried mud on the horse's fetlocks, and reflected that the stableman knew more of the affairs of state than any ten courtiers.

On his way back to his chambers, he stopped to chat with one of the cook's assistants, a snub-nosed girl whose freckled cheeks suggested she might have Comyn blood. She balanced a basket of root vegetables on one hip, only too happy to share what she'd learned.

The party from Isoldir had brought news from along the road. A new plague, called the masking sickness because of the black sores covering its victims, had arisen in the countries to the north. Frictions between Ridenow and the kingdom of Asturias had escalated, and Varzil had gone to the capital of Asturias to negotiate on behalf of Carolin Hastur.

I hope they seize him as a spy!

"Who told you this?" Eduin asked. "The men from Isoldir?"

"Oh, no, they only talked about the masking sickness. Pepita, who waits on Lady Romilla, she heard Damisela Callina talking about Varzil the Good.

They're saying that unless DomVarzil can make a treaty, Queen Ariel will go to war. Oh, that will be a terrible time, when kin-folk take arms against one another!"

"Yes, indeed," Eduin said as he patted her shoulder and sent her on her way.

So Varzil had gone to Asturias. Eduin knew little of the quarrel there.

Asturias was defended by a ruthless general known as the Kilghard Wolf, and had recently occupied the neighboring kingdom of Marenji. Such a man might not take kindly to unctuous words of peace, or be willing to surrender his military advantage for Carolin's Compact.

There was nothing Eduin could do, nor did he see any way to use the news to intensify suspicions of Varzil. There was no point in trying to create further hostilities with Isoldir. The only thing to be done was to watch and wait.

38

The evening following the arrival of the Isoldir emissary, Eduin and Saravio attended Romilla in her chambers. She sent a servant to summon them.

Word had flown about the castle that Queen Julianna and her advisers had already met in secret with DomRonal. Eduin hoped Romilla had been one of the council. If so, he intended to use whatever means available to learn what had happened.

When they arrived at Romilla's chambers, they found her pacing the length of her sitting room. Rows of expensive beeswax candles filled the chamber with golden light, burnishing the silver inlaid furniture. Some woodsy incense had been added to fire. One of Romilla's attendants stood holding a goblet and decanter of amber-colored wine.

Romilla seated herself, arranging her skirts with a mannerism she had copied from Julianna. "Take that away," she told the attendant. "I will not need it, now that Sandoval is here."

"Naotalba already knows what troubles your heart," Eduin said, and watched the flicker of reaction in her eyes. "She will answer you through Sandoval the Blessed-"

"Of course," Romilla interrupted. "I must prepare myself." She sat very still, but the broken rhythm of her speech betrayed her agitation.

At the mention of Naotalba, Saravio began humming softly. Eduin, even with his laran barriers in place, sensed the pulse of psychic emanations. The effect upon Romilla was immediate. Her eyelids softened, her breath caught and then slowed. The color in her cheeks heightened minutely.

"All will be well," Eduin murmured. "Speak aloud what troubles you, that Naotalba may pour the balm of her healing upon you."

"It-surely it is all foolishness-born of my old fears. I should not have such-such doubts...."

Her voice trailed off, the jumbled phrases stilled, and for that moment she looked very young, her pride and self-assurance only a brittle shell over the nightmare-haunted girl Eduin had first known. He remembered that first audience back in Kirella, the bruised darkness of her eyes, her fingers tugging at the white bandages on her wrists.

So she had been. So might she be once more, if there were any advantage in it for him.

"I thought it would be so easy to sit in council," she continued, "the judgment so clear."

"You are in Naotalba's care," he said in a soothing voice, "and it is by her will you take your rightful place as heir to Kirella. As long as you remain faithful to her and submit yourself to her guidance, she will not abandon you."

Romilla closed her eyes, an expression of relief washing her features, and drew a long breath. The flush on her cheeks intensified, along with Saravio's humming. "I knew that I would see things more clearly in the presence of Sandoval the Blessed. Yes, that is better."

"Rest with your eyes closed," Eduin said, shifting his tone from reassurance to command. "Sandoval will sing to you now and let the blessing of Naotalba flow into you. Through him, you need never be alone."

With another sigh, Romilla settled back in her chair. Eduin spared a glance for her attendant, who, having put away the medicinal wine, had taken a stool in the corner and was now listening with half-closed eyes.

"O the lark in the twilight She rises from the west..."

Saravio lifted his voice, stronger with every phrase.

"And she flies o'er the battlefield With blood upon her breast..."

A wave of laran energy swept across Eduin's mental barriers. He sensed its power, dark and intoxicating. All he had to do was open himself and let the flood of orgasmic pleasure take him. The schemes of great lords would no longer matter to him, or the bitterness of unfulfilled revenge and blighted dreams. He would walk among the silver trees and hear the song of the chieri, eternal and unchanging.

Necessity held him back. He must stay vigilant, or the opportunity would slip by him. Romilla's mouth had fallen open and her hands were draped loosely over the arm rests of her chair, fingers twitching. Her attendant was for the moment oblivious of everything else except her own inner bliss.

Eduin gestured to Saravio to stop singing. "Naotalba ;has spoken to me, has given me a message to deliver to the damisela. She is well pleased with you."

Saravio bent his head, accepting the praise as if he had just emerged from the Dry Towns and had been offered a cup of spring water. As often happened after Saravio had used his psychic abilities, Eduin sensed the languor seeping through him, weighing his limbs, dulling his awareness. In a short time, Saravio would slip into a lassitude as mind and body recovered from the expenditure of energy.

Eduin reached out with his laran into the sleeping mind of Romilla. Her dreams were more brightly colored than before, and the shadows, while still present, had retreated to a distance. He saw the glances of the young men who had placed baskets of flowers at her feet, had bowed before her at the dance; he felt the heady thrill of sitting beside Julianna at council.

More, show me more ...

He thrust against the barriers surrounding her memories. Pain flared, the instinctive protection against psychic invasion, but he drew upon his own power to overcome it. He needed more than fragmented dreams and the emotional reactions of a young girl, untried in matters of war and statecraft.

If the Isoldir party had spoken the name of Varzil Ridenow, or had been tainted by his influence, Eduin must know.

The scorpion of his father's command roused. Find... K-k-kffl...

Tatters of thought and color fell away. Gradually, as if emerging from a ground-hugging mist, Eduin became aware of his surroundings as Romilla had seen them. The memories were hazy, bearing little sense of distance or solidity. He could see and hear, although in a distorted fashion. The room around him was narrow and dark, without outside windows. Cold white radiance diffused from four laran-charged glows, casting blurred shadows on the faces of the people who took their places in a circle. Romilla's gaze shifted from Queen Julianna to the man opposite her. Eduin could see little else, but he supposed Lord Brynon must be present, as well as General Marzan and the other senior councillors.

The meeting began by fits and starts, as if Romilla could not bring herself to pay proper attention. Her emotions, anxiety and exhilaration predominating, overwhelmed everything else. In moments, Eduin caught snatches of speech, enough to recognize opening formalities. Abruptly, both words and vision came clear.

Dom Ronal made as if to approach Julianna, but a pair of Aillard guards stepped forward. He halted and bowed deeply.

"Your Majesty, gracious Queen, the time has come to put an end to the hostilities between our two kingdoms. From before the time of our fathers, we have distrusted and sought to injure one another. Suspicion and fear have driven us to seek ever more terrible methods of destruction. Instead of increasing the security of our lands, the result has been the opposite."

"As you have learned to your sorrow," Julianna commented dryly.

The Isoldir lord inclined his head. "I have no justification for my actions, except to ask in all respect if you would not have done the same, had our situations been reversed."

"You dare to say such a thing, when it is by the Lady's own mercy that your castle still stands?" Lord Brynon's voice came from the side.

Julianna waved him to silence. "Let the man speak. I would hear what has brought him here. I assume," she now directed her words to the Isoldir lord, "you are come to sue for peace."

"If that is what I must do to bring an end to the enmity between us, then yes," Dom Ronal replied. "Only a fool clings to his enemy's throat when his own house is burning. Lord Brynon speaks the truth; you have been merciful to us, more so than we would have been to you. Yet if our attack had been carried out as we had planned, it is you who would now be on your knees in Isoldir."

One of the councillors shouted in outrage and a guard moved forward, hand upon sword hilt. Romilla's vision faded in a wash of emotions, but only for a moment.

"... three airships set out from Cedestri Tower that day," Ronal was saying, "but only one continued upon its course, only one for you to defend against.

The other pilots turned back of their own accord because they had become convinced of the folly of laran weapons."

"Three aircars, carrying that hideous new form of bonewater?" General Marzan said. "We saw two at Cedestri Tower, but did not know they had participated in the attack. Had we known, we would not have left a single stone upright or laranzu able to draw breath. Your Majesty, if even one of them had succeeded, all our own lands and castles would have been laid waste until the time of your children's children."

"So," Lord Brynon said in a voice that only Romilla could hear, "Dom Ronal would have an empty victory, land he could not use and those few souls left alive now sealed to vengeance-aye, they and their sons and their son's sons."

"Why, what could they then do to Valeron, except to wish us ill?" Romilla muttered in return.

In her dreaming memory, her father's features loomed, brows drawn together, mouth tight. "Do not underestimate hatred, my child, or dismiss the consequences of such a terrible injury. Fallen men do not always remain powerless, and injustice has a way of turning back upon itself."

"Father, how can it be wrong to defend oneself against an unprovoked attack? Would that not put an end to the quarrel?"

Before Lord Brynon could answer, Julianna resumed the questioning.

"Have you come all these leagues to tell us that you meant to harm us even more than you did? Why should I not have your head struck from your shoulders at this very instant, rather than leave such an enemy alive to strike again?"

Even through the blurred images of Romilla's dream-memory, Eduin saw the Isoldir lord's face pale and his hands tremble.

"Because," Dom Ronal said in a voice edged with emotion, "I would no longer be your enemy. I would see peace between us and all through these lands."

Julianna's eyes narrowed. "The only way that will happen is your immediate surrender."

Silence, like a velvet hush, enveloped the room. Slowly, as if the movement were deeply painful, Dom Ronal lowered himself to one knee and then the other.

"Then I surrender, not only myself and Isoldir, but our one remaining aircar, for the other was demolished during your retaliation. I ask-I beg you to use it more wisely than I have."

"What is he playing at?" Lord Brynon said under his breath to Romilla.

"This must be some ruse to catch us off our guard, lull us into complacency, and then attack. No one surrenders unconditionally unless the only other choice is destruction."

Dom Ronal, still on his knees, turned his head to face Lord Brynon. Eduin, watching through Romilla's eyes, saw the Isoldir ruler's expression. It was not that of a defeated man, but of one who has gathered all his courage into his two hands. The surrender was not an act of desperation, but of faith.

If only I had been there! Eduin stormed. Imight have been able to read his true motives! Instead, he must content himself with Romilla's patchy memories.

"I would of course prefer an alliance by marriage or exchange of fosterage,"

Dom Ronal said, "for such ties often lead to deeper understanding and mutual respect. I am here to do whatever I can to put old resentments to rest. If I must give up my kingdom-" and here his voice faltered, "-and turn over the lands and people that have been the care of my family since the Ages of Chaos, then I must."