'How do we find them?" he echoed. "Or am I simply a fool to think I can pit myself against Anne?"

'Someone must, my lord prince. Do not forget your father, the king."

Here in the courtyard, open to the air, he heard noises from the town, a stallion's defiant trumpeting, the rumble of cartwheels along cobbles, a man shouting.

He smiled grimly. "Nay, I do not forget him. Am I not his obedient son?"

'Alas, my lord prince, not always."

He grinned as he looked up at her, delighted by her dead-pan expression and the lift of her eyebrows. "It is no wonder that my father trusted you, Eagle."

'Nor have I ever betrayed that trust. Nor do I mean to do so now."

'Still, you sought me out."

'Because I believe that you are the only one who can save King Henry-"

A shout disturbed the drowsy afternoon. Feet clattered on stone in counterpoint to cries and objections. He jumped to his feet and called out to the others just as the door into the suite was thrown open and a soldier thrust inside as if on the points of spears.

'My lord prince!" The man was too short of breath to croak out more than the title. "Prince Sanglant!"

'Here I am." Sanglant strode into the shadow of the whitewashed porch. "What is it, Malbert?"

'Your Grace!" The eunuch Basil shoved past Malbert with a furi-^ us expression. His Wendish was startlingly fluent. "This man in-y,'aded the sanctuary of the palace. He injured one of my-"

'I beg you, silence!"

The eunuch faltered, mouth working, face a study in contempt ^nd insulted dignity. But he kept quiet.

'Malbert?"

The soldier still breathed hard. "My lord prince," he gasped, fight ! for air. "Your daughter-is missing." was too terrified to move as the stallion gathered itself to bolt. The groom edged down the gangplank. Wolfhere ^hoved at the backs of the sailors who, like the rest of the crowd, tracked away fearfully to give the frightened horse room. Only Blessing stood her ground.

'Brother Lupus!" The cleric appeared out of the crowd and grasped Wolfhere by the shoulder. "I thought I might find you tracking Prince Sanglant as well. Come. We must hasten."

'Now is not the time!" Wolfhere pulled free of the cleric, not difficult since he stood half a head taller and had the build of a man who has spent his life in the saddle, not in court.

'My God." The other man looked beyond him as the sailors shrank away, leaving a gap between which one could see the tableau, stallion poised, girl motionless. "Is that the child, grown so large? I had thought her no more than three. Or is this another bastard child belonging to the prince?"

The stallion danced sideways, tossing its head. The groom reached the base of the plank.

'No time to waste," murmured the cleric.

Something about the way he tilted up his chin and squinted his eyes skyward triggered a cascade of memories. Something about the way he lifted his left hand, as if giving a benediction or a command, spilled recognition into plain sight.

Zacharias had seen him before. He was one of those who had re mained in the valley after Kansi-a-lari defeated the sorcerers. He was one of the Seven Sleepers.

As was Wolfhere.

Light flashed around the cleric's head. The sky darkened as a cloud scudded in to cover the sun, and that same wisp of light caressed Zacharias' neck before flitting on to twist across the sprawl of bodies. It tangled within the mane of the restive stallion curling around its ears. Was he hallucinating? The stallion snorted and backed so hard into the groom that the poor man tumbled off the wharf and fell with a shriek and a splash into the filthy water.

Blessing took another step forward. The stallion reared, trumpeting.

Zacharias could not shift his feet. Wolfhere thrust past the men blocking his way and sprinted to her, bearing her bodily into the safety of the crowd as Blessing shouted in protest and kicked him. The cleric turned.

'Who are you?" the man asked in his prim voice, his lips set in a terse line. "Too late for questions, since you have already seen me." A breath of wind teased his ear. A flutter of breeze wrapped around his face and choked off the air. Light crackled before his eyes. Faded. He fell.

Woke, sick to his stomach and with the ground heaving beneath him. He rolled backward, bumped up against a lumpy sack, and opened his eyes. It was dark except for a dull glow beyond his feet, too diffuse to make out. He could not tell where he was, but the splintered wood planks stank of old vomit and dried piss and the floor kept tilting gently up and down, up and down.

He heard footsteps, the scrape of an object dragged over the ground, and hurriedly shut his eyes.

"I'll search him, then." That was the cleric speaking in his thickly accented Wendish. Zacharias willed his breathing to slow, his body to relax, so the cleric would think him asleep. Hands patted his body, an intimate but efficient touch. "God have mercy. Does the man never wash?"

'He doesn't like his disfigurement to be seen, so I suppose that accounts for him not bathing. I told you it was rash to grab him, Marcus. Couldn't you have left well enough alone? Now we'll have to kill him."

Even after the years he had survived as a slave, the years he had learned to absorb whatever humiliation was meted out to him, it was hard not to suck in his breath, not to whimper in fear.

That was Wolfhere's voice.

Hadn't he guessed all along that Wblfhere could not be trusted?

'I take no chances," said the other man, not to be distracted from his search. "He saw me with you and might carry tales back to the prince." Quickly enough those hands found the little pocket sewn into Zacharias' robes; those hands extracted the folded parchment and retreated. By some miracle, Zacharias kept his breathing steady, did not open his eyes.

Do not let them know. Wait it out. Patience is its own reward.

'Do you recognize this?" asked Marcus.

'The scratchings of a mathematicus. You know I am not skilled in calculation."

'Nor in intrigue. This bears the mark of Liathano's idle musings. How did the eunuch come to possess it?"

'I do not know. He is a secretive man, much taken by an interest in arcane matters. He believes he has seen some vision, a glimpse into the secret nature of the cosmos. I do not claim to understand it. But he will ever have at me, wanting to be taught the hidden knowledge of the universe."

'Is that so? Hmm."

Wolfhere's laugh was sharp. "Do you think to recruit him? He is a coward. Not to be trusted. He says so himself. I have witnessed his cowardice with my own eyes."

'I was thinking more of throwing him over the side once we are well out at sea. But I wonder what it is that he thought you could teach him. Why he thought you were traveling with Prince San-giant."

A good question, but Zacharias could scarcely concentrate; it was hard enough to hold his bladder so he wouldn't piss himself from fear. "Throwing him over the side." No wonder the ground rocked beneath him. He was on a ship.

'One of us must watch those who present the most danger. Hasn't that always been my task? I am the messenger who rides in the world."

'Not you alone. I have done my part among the presbyters and clerics in Darre." "It is not the same." "No, it is not, for they are all cultured men and women. You have fulfilled the part your birth suited you for. Now you are needed to play your part elsewhere, Brother Lupus."

'I am needed here. Prince Sanglant poses a threat. One of us must watch him."

'I do not disagree with you, but we no longer have the luxury of letting you range at will. The wheel of the heavens turns, whether we will it or no. You know what part you are meant to play."

'Is there not another one who can be trained? Surely there is still time."

'Unlike Eagles, Sleepers do not retire, Brother. They die and are replaced. Sister Zoe no longer stands with us. Alas."

'She is truly dead?"

'So she is, in the same conflagration in which we lost Liathano. I will miss her, the good woman. But we have found a strong mind to replace hers. He is called Hugh of Austra. Perhaps you know of him."

'Hugh of Austra! Margrave Judith's bastard son?"

'The same. With his help, Anne has unlocked the secret of the crowns and how the movement of the stars acts in concert with the stones. Now we are close to understanding the weaving by which our ancestors rid themselves of the Lost Ones."

'The seven circles-"

'We are far beyond that. Seven circles, each of seven stones. We were deceived by erroneous notions. Sister Anne believed that the crown at Verna was the key, but it is not. Meriam now believes that the crowns were laid out to surround the land of the Aoi, that in this way the ancient sorcerers bound that land within the circle of the spell. Therefore, there must be at least one crown south of the middle sea, one east of it, one west, and so on. We have discovered unexpected allies in Alba among the tree sorcerers and their queen. With their help, we know where the westernmost circle lies. Brother Sev-erus will journey there after he has identified the second circle, which we believe lies in southern Salia. I have myself in the course of my long search for you discovered a crown here in the east, in the wilderness between Ungria and Handelburg, at a place called Queen's Grave. Do you know of it?"

'Bayan and Sapientia fought the Quman at a spot called Queen's Grave about three years ago. There was a tumulus there erected in ancient days, so I heard-"

'The same. I ventured into the burial chamber, but it had been disturbed by grave robbers. I also saw the leavings from the battle, bones of horses and men picked clean, countless shards of arrows.

There is a crown on top of the hill. The local folk were easily ner_ suaded that it was in their interest to hoist the fallen stones upright with rope and dirt ramps, under my supervision. Yet you were not there when the battle was fought, were you, Wolfhere? How is it that we lost track of you? I see that you wear an amulet to protect yourself from aetherical sight. Are you hiding from us?"

'Nay. I was trapped by the cunning of one of my own comrades an Eagle. My old nemesis, who hates me sorely. She retired to the service of Waltharia, the eldest child of Helmut Villam. When we passed by that way, she convinced Prince Sanglant that if he sought to act against sorcerers he must protect himself by means of such amulets. I couldn't refuse to wear one without making him distrust me."

'You should have left him months ago. It serves no purpose."

'Do you think Prince Sanglant poses no threat to Sister Clothilde's hopes and plans?"

'I think even if he can succeed in gaining allies, and these griffin feathers you speak of, that it will be too late, and too little, against us."

'Perhaps. But how will we know how great a threat he poses if none of us are witness to what he is doing?"

'Any person can spy on Prince Sanglant."

'Not any person can gain his trust."

'That may be. I do not know how much of a dog's instinct he has for enemies. But it matters not, Brother."

'If you think it does not matter, then you are a fool."

'You forget yourself! You were raised as Anne's servant, not as our peer!"

The silence stank of anger and old resentment. Zacharias might have cheered to see Wolfhere spoken to in such a way, but he had himself been born to freeholders who had risked farming in the marchlands in order to be beholden to no lord, only to the regnant.

'I crave your pardon, my lord," said Wolfhere at last in a tight voice.

'So you must. I expect you not to forget your place again. Now. As soon as my servant returns with slaves, we will cast off. There's little enough tide in these waters."

'Where do we go?" Was Wolfhere's tone ironic? Or angry? Did the needle of rank still jab him? Was he humbled by Marcus' disdain? He had such a hold over his emotions, and the muffling effect of the dark hold muted his voice just enough, that Zacharias could not guess how he felt. "Do we return to Darre?"

'Nay. We are to journey south to assist Sister Meriam in her search in the lands south of the middle sea. We hear stories of a crown set near the ruins of Kartiako. Meriam believes that another crown must lie south of the holy city of Sai's. It will be a pilgrimage into a new land."

'A dangerous one. Jinna idolaters rule those lands."

'It is difficult to know who truly rules the desert. But first I must deliver my cargo, and the child, to Darre."

'The child." The words, spoken so softly, barely reached Zacharias' ears although he lay not a body's length from the two men. "I am against it. It is dangerous to act so boldly."

'As the time approaches, we must not fear to take risks. We have hidden for too long."

'If we kidnap the child, Prince Sanglant will not rest until he recovers her."

'Then he cannot hunt griffin feathers and sorcerous allies in the east, can he? He will have to choose. One, or the other."

All at once, Zacharias realized that he lay not against a sack but against a body, limp and small. It was Blessing, unconscious and, presumably, tied up as he was. With some effort, he wiggled his arms until his hands touched her body. His searching hands brushed her fingers.

She responded. Her small hands, tied back as his were, clenched hard, tightening over his thumb. She squeezed again, a signal, and he squeezed back, then traced the pattern of the rope binding her wrists, seeking the knot. She made no sound, nor did she move except for that brief, fierce, silent communication.

The rope was wet and swollen, impossible to unknot especially at the angle he was forced to work on it. He despaired. He would be thrown to the fish, and she carried off to Darre as a hostage. Prince Sanglant had fought so hard to protect her, but it appeared that, after all, the sorcerers would win.

A ghost of a breeze tickled his nose, making him sniffle and snort.

'What's that?" asked Marcus, standing.

Footsteps sounded on the deck above them and a voice called down through the hatch in clear but understandable Aostan. "Your man has returned, my lord cleric. He's brought a dozen likely looking slaves, half of them Quman by the looks of them and the rest foreign creatures from the east. It isn't often we get a coffle of only male J.S.V slaves. Most buyers prefer women. Shall we quarter them below, or on deck?"

No breeze could penetrate belowdecks, but a breeze played around him nonetheless. As Marcus moved away to the ladder, Blessing whispered.

'Yes. Free me."

Of course he would try, but he could not work miracles! God had forsaken him, or he had forsaken God...

She was not talking to him. She was talking to the spirit of air that played around his head. A cool touch swirled around his fingers. The strands of rope that bound her hands softened and parted, unraveling like so much rhetted flax. She flexed her wrists, and the rope fell away, leaving her free.

'Yes." Her voice had no more force than the stirring of a breeze against the skin. "Him, too."

His bonds loosened and he slipped swollen hands forward to his chest. A sensation as of a thousand pricking needles infested his palms and fingers as the blood and humors rushed back.

Free.

But still trapped.

Chains rattled above.

'Anna says you're a sinner and an unbeliever," murmured Blessing under cover of the thump and scrape of chains on the ladder as slaves descended into the hold. "Are you?"

'I don't know what I believe, Your Highness," he whispered. "But I think we had better consider how to escape rather than whether I'm apostate."

'But what about your soul? Won't you be cast into the Abyss? Doesn't that scare you?"