At last he dragged himself through and pushed the door shut with a foot. The latch clicked into place.

He sprawled with eyes shut, unable to move. Just lay there as his muscles twitched and he thought he might melt into the rug whose fibers pressed into his cheek. A friendly whippet nosed him, licked his face, and, when he did not respond, curled up congenially against the curve of his bent knees.

Perhaps he slept.

The next thing he knew, hands took hold of his arms and dragged him over the rug as the whippet whined resignedly. He cracked his eyes open to see that day had fled. Lamps lit a chamber hazy with shadows that congealed into things he could recognize: a table carved of ebony wood, a magnificent broad bed hung around with curtains, two massive chests, a woman dressed in cloth of gold trimmed with purple who turned to regard him with a faint expression of surprise on her pretty face.

'Is this the same one?" she asked as the hands released him, turning him over and dropping him supine on the floor a body's length from her.

'Yes, Your Majesty. This is the one." Hugh stepped out of the shadows or perhaps through an unseen door. A servant scuttled past him to place a brazier full of red-hot coals next to a wall, then vanished back the way he had come. "I cannot stay long. It must be done quickly."

The empress nodded, still staring curiously at Zacharias, but as she approached the bed, her attention shifted to the man lying asleep there, whom Zacharias had not seen before.

It was the emperor.

'Ai, God," she whispered as she sank down beside her husband, her hands clasped in prayer. "Can we save him, Father Hugh?"

'We can, but we must not falter, although the road seems dark. You have given him the sleeping draught?"

'Yes. He fell asleep just after the midnight bell. My servingwomen will not disturb us. They believe that he and I intend to make a new u^ child tonight, one born of empire, not just to a mere king and queen. The four guards outside are those I would trust with my life. They will not betray us."

'So we must hope. If they do, all is lost, for then the skopos will know what we intend."

The shimmer of lamplight twisted across her face, making her look young and vulnerable, but there remained an iron tightness to the set of her mouth that suggested she was bent on a cruel course. "Aosta belongs to Henry and me at last, Father. Henry would go north if he could. You know this."

'I know this."

'Yet now we are told that it is the emperor's destiny to ride east, into Dalmiaka to make war on Arethousa. And for what? For what? For a heap of stones, so my spies tell me! I had hoped we could be quit of this awful daimone by now, that we could restore him."

'We dare not."

A tear rolled down her cheek as she regarded the sleeping emperor. "Look at him as he sleeps! Look at his beloved face!" She touched his cheek tenderly, brushed her fingers through his hair. "Now and again I swear to you, Father Hugh, just as he wakes I see him, a glimpse of him, behind his eyes. He is angry. I swear this to you. He is angry that this cruel thing has been done to him! And done by the ones who love him most!"

'It was the only way to protect him. The Holy Mother will kill him if he does not do exactly as she wishes."

'I know the skopos claims that this crown of tumbled stones is all that will save the world from a terrible cataclysm. That our empire must hold the lands where the crown lies. So must we war against the Arethousans who control that territory now!"

'She is a woman obsessed with but one thing," he agreed. "Henry is not to be ordered about like a common captain, not even by the skopos! He would have insisted on marching north to Wendar now that our task here is through, now that the Empire is restored. He's heard the reports of all these Eagles, bearing dire tidings. But if we'd abandoned Aosta before, we would have lost it forever. Now that our work in Aosta is done, we can march north to Wendar safely. The skopos can lead an army herself into Dalmiaka to fight the Arethousans. The chronicles tell us of Holy Mothers who have sent armies to do their bidding. Who have accompanied their soldiers. Why must she force Henry to her will?"

'That's right." As Hugh spoke, he moved closer yet to the bed where Henry slept and beautiful Adelheid bent in sorrow. "We must protect him in the only way we can. Now, Your Majesty. I pray you. Just for this hour we must withdraw the one thing that protects him from any harm the skopos might do to him. He'll never know that his protection lifts. He'll never know when it is returned into his body, as it will be as soon as I have what I need."

'So be it," she murmured.

She drew the sign of the Circle at her breast and with a sigh moved to the foot of the bed. Hugh sat beside Henry's sleeping form while she watched over them. The way the shadow and lamplight played over the scene made it difficult for Zacharias to see exactly what was going on, only that Hugh had a ribbon wrapped through his fingers. He passed that hand over Henry's face as he murmured, and the ribbon came alive, writhing in his grip as if it were trying to escape him.

How could a ribbon move of its own will?

Henry's body relaxed so abruptly, although he still slept, that the emperor appeared oddly different than he had a moment before although his eyes did not flutter, nor did he give any sign of awakening. The young empress gave a gasp, then bit her lip, but she did not move. She was as finely wrought a statue as any Zacharias had ever seen, a lovely woman in the prime of her youth and glorious in her empress' raiment, golden and splendid. A true queen.

Hugh rose, crossed the room, and knelt beside Zacharias. The red ribbon tangled through his fingers lashed and slithered, but it could not escape. His golden hair shone where the light gilded it. His smile was gentle.

'What do you know of Prince Sanglant, Brother Zacharias?" he asked. "What of the Eagle, Hathui?"

He was too weak to run, but he was strong enough to keep silent. Never would he betray her.

Never.

Hugh touched the ribbon to Zacharias' lips and in his melodious voice chanted the names of angels, holy creatures, bidding them to come to his aid.

A cool sensation slipped down Zacharias' throat, insinuated itself in through his nostrils, and clawed its way into his eyes.

There was something inside him.

He struggled, but he could do nothing. An aery presence flooded him, twisting into his skin, into his vitals, into the very hall where he stabled each of his memories, precisely placed and uncannily accurate.

'Can you hear me?" asked Hugh.

'I can," his voice answered. His tongue formed the words, but he was not the one who spoke.

He fought, but in vain. He was both prisoner and slave.

'Tell me everything you know of Prince Sanglant. Where was he when last you saw him? What are his plans? Where is his daughter? What of the Eagle who escaped me? What does the prince know? What did Hathui see?"

The daimone that infested him brushed through his memories and, one by one, with his voice and his tongue, told his secrets.

Every one.

XXV A MUTE BEAST Zacharias."

He came to himself with a shock: he was free, untainted, unharmed, and alone in his body. The horror of that infestation thrilled along his skin, a million ants crawling, a thousand wasps stinging, too awful to contemplate.

'He cannot lie under the influence of the daimone," Hugh was saying. "So. The Eagle escaped me, and told Prince Sanglant everything."

'True," said Adelheid thoughtfully. "But now we are forewarned and thus armed."

Tears of shame streamed down Zacharias' cheeks. The others did not notice. They had turned their backs on him.

'If he seeks griffins and sorcerers," Adelheid continued, "and means to return with them and invade Aosta, then he must cross the Alfar Mountains over one of the three passes-St. Barnaria, Julier, or the Brinne."

'Where is the Brinne Pass?" Hugh asked. "I've not heard of it."

'It's far to the east. Few folk use it, for it leads into eastern Avaria and the marchlands, and there's little trade in that direction. The road lies up the northeast coast and inland into Zuola, where Mar-quesa Richildis rules. She is loyal to us." Zacharias heard the turn of her foot on the carpet. Her voice remained cool and collected, but her pacing betrayed agitation. "That is what we must do. We must post men in each of the passes to keep watch for the prince and his army." "It could be months or years before an army appears, if it ever does."

'So be it. That is the only way we can hope to gain warning of his approach."

'If he returns from the east," said Hugh.

'If he does not, then he is no threat to us."

'Perhaps. If he chooses to foment civil war in Wendar, then the north might rise against Henry."

'Henry will ride east with the skopos. When he returns from Dal-miaka, our position will be strong. That's when we can march north to restore his authority in Wendar and Varre. For now, all we can do is watch the passes and prepare ourselves."

Hugh chuckled. "You are a strategist, Your Majesty. It is well that you are, because you must fight this battle alone. I will ride north soon in preparation for the great weaving."

'Why must you go?"

'Because the Holy Mother demands it."

'What of Henry?"

'Anne will take the ribbon. She will watch over the emperor."

'I don't like it. Dare we trust the Holy Mother with him? She might do anything without you or me there. That we hold Henry is the only sword we have to protect ourselves from her."

'There is much in this world that we do not like that we must suffer because it is the only way to achieve the ends we seek. If we do not make a show of trusting her by giving her the ribbon, then she will know we do not trust her. She may come to believe that we act against her. She is more powerful than we are right now. We must be patient. We will bide our time. The day will come when all that we seek will come to pass."

Too late, Zacharias searched for the door. He still lay on his back, and the door lay a very long way away, an impossible distance but his only hope. If he could escape this chamber, he could warn someone-anyone-even fall at the feet of the skopos herself and use his tongue to condemn these two, who had forced him to betray his beloved sister.

'Very well." Adelheid's footsteps sounded on the carpet as Zacharias hunched his shoulders to see if he could squirm backward.

'Will you kill him?" the empress asked in a cool voice.

'He is innocent," said Hugh. "Brother Marcus promised him that he would be taught the secrets of the mathematici. Yet, as he is, he is a danger to himself and to the emperor because he knows too much."

Too late Zacharias realized that they no longer spoke of Prince Sanglant. It was Hugh who had come to stand next to him, not Adel-heid; she remained by the emperor's bed.

'Is he so educated that he can learn the secret paths known only to the mathematici?" she asked.

Hugh's beautiful face wore an expression of compassion, but his eyes were cold. "There is much he can learn. But, no, he is not educated. Yet it is precisely because he cannot write or read that we can show him mercy."

Zacharias got his elbows under him and heaved himself up. On the bed Henry slept, yet a stiffness in his limbs suggested that the emperor did not rest entirely at peace. The red ribbon lay across his throat, unmoving.

'Will you teach me?" he demanded through his tears, then hated himself for succumbing even for a moment to that consuming desire. "Nay! I will not be taught by you, who made me betray my sister!"

'I will teach you to weave the crowns," said Hugh patiently. "If you learn well, you can take my place as cauda draconis when the time comes."

A grim exhilaration goaded him on. "I'll not consort with those who mean harm to my sister!"

'I will need all four guards," said Hugh to the empress. "You are certain of their loyalty?"

'They wear the amulets you wove for them."

'Ah. Then we need not fear that they will betray us."

She went to the door, spoke, and four guardsmen entered the room, men with broad shoulders and powerful hands.

'Hold him down." Hugh turned to the brazier sitting forgotten beside one wall, slipped a glove on his right hand, bent, and withdrew a knife from the coals. Its blade gleamed white-hot.

The guardsmen pushed Zacharias to the floor.

He thrashed against their grip. "Ai, God! Ai, God! I pray you, mercy! I'll do anything you want! Anything you want!"

'So you will," said Hugh. "Hold him tight. One of you, take the head."

Weak though he was, he struggled like a lion caught in a net, biting, kicking, scratching as the guardsmen cursed him, or laughed, each according to his nature.

They were stronger than he was. They were a vise. When they had him pinned and his head clamped between arms like iron claws, he still thrashed even if he could not move. He fought, and he twisted; he wept, and he begged, but they pried his mouth open and used tongs to fix hold of his tongue and hold it extended as Hugh brought the knife down. No glee animated that beautiful face, only the frowning intentness of a man sorry to be doing what was necessary.

When the blade touched, pain and fire exploded in his head, but the worst of it was that he did not pass out, not as he had that day long ago among the Quman when Bulkezu had mutilated him. He felt the knife slice, and he screamed.

It was the only speech he had left.

SJHLJh stepped last of all through the archway of light that she had woven between star and standing stone. As the blue light enveloped her, it blinded her to the world below at the same time that it opened her sight into its interstices, paths leading off at every angle of past, present, and future. Yet her gaze remained fixed on a lodestone falling behind: Her daughter, a stranger to her, lay asleep on cold earth while each step took her farther away from the child because she had to follow the sparks made by the passing of Sorgatani's wagon. She dared not lose them.

As she was losing Sanglant for a second time.

She saw in him flashes. With each step he and his army receded; with each step her vision blurred, or his army got larger, a mass of soldiers attended first by two Quman banners, then four, then eight, a succession of images, glimpses into the future as days or weeks passed outside the weaving.

How long would it be until she saw him again?

Emotions shone in as many colors as the blazing stars, woven together to create the thread of her being: a sense of triumph at the ease with which she had woven the crown, a gnawing doubt that she had done it wrong and they would end up cast onto unknown shores, grief at leaving her daughter and husband behind yet again, anger at Anne, the weight of responsibility she had taken on, desire in thinking of him but that would distract her so it must not be thought of except that he had a very particular way of laughing when- 'Liath!"

She stumbled on uneven ground and went down on one knee. A strong arm steadied her as her head reeled and her legs gave out. She would have fallen flat if someone hadn't been holding her up.

'Just so tired," she murmured, amazed.

A breeze chased her hair, whipping her braid along her shoulder. Dust eddied along bare earth.

'Where are we?" she whispered.

She looked up. Down the slope of a small mountain valley stood the familiar tower where she had studied for many months. She had left this place only days ago, or so it seemed.

Verna.

She went all hazy, breath punched out of her.

She woke to find herself lying on her cloak under the shade of an apple tree while Lady Bertha, seated beside her, cut worms out of apples. Bertha's padded tunic was blotched with sweat. A cord tied her hair back from her face, although the ragged ends didn't reach her shoulders.

'It's summer, no doubt of it," Bertha was saying to someone out of her line of sight.

Liath stared into the canopy of an apple tree whose contours she recalled clearly from her time spent in Verna. She had eaten many apples off this tree. Once she and Sanglant had snuck out here at night and made love under these branches while the night breezes-or Anne's captured daimones-played around them. But he was far away now, lost to her. Months had passed for him while she had stepped through a single night. She could scarcely fathom it, yet the ache never left her and the apple tree reminded her bitterly of what she had left behind.

'If we're in the mountains, we must hope to find a pass that will lead us north to Wendar or south to Aosta," Bertha continued.

Liath groaned and sat up.

'Liath!" Breschius loomed over her, a slice of apple crushed between his fingers.