'I know who you are!" she exclaimed as Zacharias climbed grog-gily to his feet, a hand clapped to the back of his head.

Bulkezu's smile vanished. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the Eagle, annoyed and puzzled. He was always at his most dangerous when exasperated.

'Hathui." Zacharias staggered forward between his sister and the chained prisoner. "He's dangerous."

'I know that." She stepped past him to confront Sanglant. "My lord prince, I demand satisfaction. His Majesty King Arnulf the Younger sent his subjects east to settle pagan lands and in exchange he promised they could rule themselves with the king alone, and no lady or lord, set over them as their ruler. The king's law sets a price for certain crimes, does it not?"

'So it does," said Sanglant, glancing at Bulkezu. The prisoner clearly had no more idea than his captor did what she was talking about.

'This man raped me when I was a virgin of but fourteen years of age. He cut me, too, and after that the wisewoman of my village said I would not be able to bear children. So I set my sights on the King's Eagles. Otherwise, I would have stayed in my village and inherited my mother's lands, and had daughters of my own to inherit in their turn. Do I not have a claim, my lord prince?"

"He raped you, Hathui?" croaked Zacharias. He looked around wildly, grabbed the broken haft of the spear, and hoisted it.

'Stay." Sanglant yanked the spear out of the frater's hand and tossed it against the ladder. "Do nothing rash, Brother. Is this true, Prince Bulkezu?"

Bulkezu laughed again. "One looks like another. I don't remember. It must have been years ago. But I recall clearly what I did to the worm. Does she know, your paramour, that you have no cock, Za-ch'rias? That we cut it off because you told us you'd rather lose your cock than your tongue? Does she know that you let men use you as a woman, just so you could stay alive? Does she know that you watched others die, because you wanted yourself to live? That it is you who taught me to speak the Wendish language, so that I could understand the speech of my enemy without them knowing?"

Zacharias screamed with rage and leaped toward Bulkezu. Sanglant swung to grab him, but Hathui had already got hold of her older brother. She stood almost as tall and had the strength of a woman who has spent years riding at the king's behest.

'Stay, Brother, do nothing rash," she said, echoing Sanglant's words. "What does it matter what this prisoner says to you or about you?"

Despite himself, Sanglant took a half step away from the ragged frater, a little disgusted by Bulkezu's accusations and repelled by the thought of a man so mutilated. What kind of man would watch his own kind die without doing all he could to prevent it? What kind of man would submit to any indignity, just to save his own life? For God's sake, what kind of man would rather lose his penis than his tongue?

'What answer do you make to these accusations?" he asked, struggling to keep contempt out of his tone. It was remarkably easy to believe that Zacharias had done these vile things. The frater never acted like a real man. Whatever drove him-and he wasn't without courage-he so often faltered, recoiled, and hid. Nor had he ever truly become a full member of Sanglant's court. He loitered on the fringe, not quite accepted, never able to push himself forward to join with the others.

To the prince's surprise, the frater wept frustrated tears. "All true," he gasped. "And worse." His expression was so bleak that pity swelled in Sanglant's heart. "I'm sorry, Hathui. Scorn me if you must-"

"Sorry for having been a slave for seven years to this monster?" She dropped Zacharias' arm, took three steps forward, and spat into Bulkezu's face. The Quman chieftain flinched back from her anger, surprised rather than scared. "I will lay my case before the prince and demand full recompense. And for the crimes you committed against my brother as well." She did not wait for his response. "Come, Zacharias. It was foolish of you to come down here, but I suppose you were afraid that I would turn away from you if I knew the truth." Her anger hadn't subsided; it spilled out to wash over her hapless brother. "I would never turn away from you. What a man suffers when he is a prisoner and a slave, under duress, cannot be held against him. Come now, let's get out of this stinking pit."

Zacharias croaked out her name, broken and pathetic, but he followed her obediently up the ladder. Malbert's face appeared.

'My lord prince?"

'I'm coming," said Sanglant, turning to pick up the two halves of the spear.

Bulkezu wasn't finished. "She wore the badge of an Eagle. Are all the king's Eagles also his whores?"

'A weak thrust, Prince Bulkezu, and unworthy of you." He set a foot on the lowest rung, stretched, and handed the broken spear to Malbert, then passed up the sword as well.

Bulkezu's lips had a way of quivering, almost a twitch, that San-giant had learned to recognize as a prelude to his worst rages. "What weapons do you give me?" he asked in that voice, as soft as feathers but poisoned at its heart.

'I'll give you a spear, as I promised, once you have guided me to the hunting grounds of the griffins. On that day you'll go free-"

'And until that day? You'd have done better to kill me if you're so afraid of me that you must shackle me, as a dog must a lion. At least Zach'rias is an honest worm. You call yourself a man but you act like a dog, slinking and cowering."

Sanglant laughed. That surge of restlessness that had driven him from Ilona's bed swept back twice as strong. For two years they'd made their slow and circuitous way eastward, delayed by blizzards, snow, high water, rains, and bouts of illness in the troops and the horses. He had never seen as much rain and snow as he had in the year and a half since the battle at the Veser. Rain had drenched the land, causing floods and mildew in the grain, and snow had buried it for two winters running, as if God were punishing them for their sins.

But God's hand alone had not caused all their troubles. They had also been delayed by the necessity of making nice to King Geza, whose lands they had to cross. He didn't like Geza nearly as much as he'd liked Bayan, and Sapientia's presence was a rankling sore, a constant source of frustration.

Or perhaps it had just been too long since he'd had a good fight.

'Malbert!"

'Yes, my lord prince."

'Throw me down the key and pull up the ladder."

'My lord!"

'The key!"

Cursing under his breath, Malbert hauled up the ladder through the trapdoor, then threw down the key, which Sanglant caught in his left hand. Bulkezu did not move as Sanglant unlocked his wrists and tossed the key to the wall, but he struck first, still quick after months of being chained. Sanglant ducked the blow. Catching wrist and arm, he drove his foe headfirst against the stone wall. Staggered, Bulkezu dropped to his knees, only to dive for Sanglant's legs. They went down together, rolling and punching, until Bulkezu sat for an instant atop Sanglant's chest. Bulkezu's hands closed on his throat, but he twisted out of the choking grip, flipped the Quman over, and sprang back to his feet, laughing breathlessly, flushed, his heart pounding in a most gratifying manner as he allowed Bulkezu to crawl back to his feet in grim silence.

Above, the lantern rocked as men crowded around the trapdoor to stare down. He heard their whispers as they laid wagers on how many blows it would take their prince to lay the prisoner out flat.

All at once he was tired of the charade. What kind of contest was it, really, to fight a man chained up for almost two years? Bulkezu remained remarkably strong, yet what kind of man was he, to torment another as Bloodheart had once tormented him?

Bulkezu struck for his face. Sanglant blocked the blow and delivered his own to Bulkezu's gut, knocking him back, then stepped in, turning sideways as Bulkezu kicked out so the blow glanced off his thigh. As he closed, Bulkezu lunged for his throat. Sanglant seized his wrists and they froze a moment, locked, motionless.

'No creature male or female may kill me," Sanglant muttered, "so it was never a fair fight."

With a curse, Bulkezu twisted his hands free, spinning to strike with his elbow. Sanglant caught the blow on his forearm and delivered a sharp punch below the ribs followed by a flurry of blows that made the men watching from above cheer. Bulkezu collapsed limply to the ground.

'On that day you'll go free," Sanglant repeated, "and we'll see which man wins griffin feathers."

Malbert pushed down the ladder and climbed down, eager to help shackle the prisoner.

'Nay, I will do it." Let him do the dirty work himself, chaining a warrior who would rather die fighting than leashed like a slave-or a dog. But perhaps Bulkezu deserved no better than the fate he had meted out to the many people he had enslaved and murdered.

What was justice? What was right?

'Here's the key," he said, handing it to Malbert, glad to be rid of it, although he would never be rid of the responsibility for what he chose to do.

Yet his night's work wasn't done. He crawled up the ladder to discover that King Geza had been alerted by his own guard. Sanglant met him just outside the keep. The king came attended by a half dozen of his white-cloaked honor guard, young men with long mustaches and scant beards. Geza was about ten years older than Bayan, rather more burly, gone a little to fat, and keenly intelligent. He had the luck of the king, that powerful presence, but he lacked the wicked sense of humor that had made Bayan a good companion.

'A problem with the prisoner?" he asked through his interpreter. Was he suspicious, or amused?

'He insulted my father," replied Sanglant.

'Ah." Geza spat on the ground to show his contempt for the prisoner. "Is he dead now?"

'Not until he's given me what I need."

Geza nodded and took his leave, returning to his bed. He had been grateful enough to get Bayan's body back, and he had stinted in no way in making Sanglant a welcome guest in the kingdom of Ungria, yet it remained clear that he was only waiting for Sanglant and his army to leave and that he was by no means happy at the thought of that same army returning to cross Ungrian lands on their road back to Wendar. He had even suggested that Sanglant take his army north into the war-torn Polenie lands. Yet he didn't want to fight Wendish troops either; after all, he and King Henry were nominally allies. When Geza had offered one of his sons as a new husband for Sapi-entia, Sanglant had actually flirted with the idea-for the space of three breaths.

As Geza and his entourage crossed the courtyard to the hall, Sanglant caught sight of Hathui and Zacharias over by the stables, she with her arm around his waist as if she were holding him up. Wolf-here stood by the doorway, lighting their way with a lamp as they ducked inside. How had Zacharias hidden his mutilation all these months? No one had even suspected. But then, Zacharias kept to himself, never truly part of the group, and in truth he stank because he so rarely washed.

'My lord prince!" Heribert hurried up, hair mussed and face puffy with sleep. "Everyone is saying you killed Bulkezu."

'Rumor has already flown, I see. Thank the Lord we're moving on tomorrow. These Ungrians sing too much."

'You haven't complained of Lady Ilona's attentions." "She's worst of all! I'm nothing more than a stallion to her, brought in to breed the mare. No more women, Heribert." The cleric chuckled. "Isn't that what you said in Gent?" "I mean it this time!"

Mercifully, Heribert did not answer, merely cocked an eyebrow, looking skeptical as he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to comb it down. The first predawn birds cried out, heralding the day to come.

'The Ungrian camp followers will stay behind when we leave Geza's kingdom. Who will be left to tempt me? Pray God the sorcerers we find will know how to get Liath back."

'Yet what lies beyond Ungria? A trackless plain, so they say. How will we find these griffins and sorcerers you seek?"

Sanglant smiled, but in his heart he felt no peace, knowing that some choices were ugly, made for expediency's sake rather than being ruled by what was just. "That is why Bulkezu still lives. He'll guide me to the griffins in exchange for his freedom-and a chance to kill me."

IV THE SUMMER SUN AT the Ungrian town of Vidinyi, King Geza made his farewells and turned his court west to return to the heartland of his kingdom. A small fleet of broad-beamed merchant ships and a dozen smaller, swifter galleys had been put at the disposal of Prince Sanglant. After off-loading their cargoes of wine, oil, and silk from the Arethousan Empire, they took on grain for the return journey downriver as well as the two thousand horses, eight hundred soldiers, and two hundred or more servants with their miscellaneous carts and pack animals.

The river seemed as broad as a lake to Sanglant as he stood on deck, Heribert beside him, watching the lengthy and difficult process of coaxing horses up onto the ships. Beyond the wharves, earth-covered fires burned along the strand. Because there was no wind and the air lay heavy and humid, wraithlike streamers of smoke from these fires stretched out along the shoreline, screening willow scrub and sapling poplars.

'They can't get much more charcoal near town," Heribert said. "Look how far back the woodland is cut."

'They're using charcoal for their ironworks, to forge more weapons. Ungria grows stronger every year and expands its border east ward." Sanglant gestured toward the new palisade wall surrounding Vidinyi. "They say it's a seven-day trip downriver to the Heretic's Sea. We won't be gone from Ungria fast enough for my taste."

'Missing Lady Ilona already?"

'I suppose I deserve that! Missing Bayan, more like. He was the best of them."

'If what Brother Breschius and Zacharias say is true, and considering the example of Bulkezu, you may look more kindly on the Ungrians once we are out on the plains at the mercy of the Quman and the Kerayit."

'Maybe so. But Geza delayed us here for his own reasons. He's a stubborn man and more conniving than he seems."

'Hoping to convince Sapientia to marry one of his sons? Or hoping to loose us into the wild lands so late in the season that the winter finishes us off?"

'Hard to say. He's not simple. No doubt the barbarians are more honest about what they want."

'Our heads? Our horses?"

'Our selves as their slaves and puras?" He laughed curtly, wiping sweat from the back of his neck. "Something like that."

The woodland had indeed been cut back on all sides of the town, but when they at long last cast off and the press of the current took them round a bend out of sight of Vidinyi, forest gradually took hold on either side until it became a monotonous fence of trees broken at intervals by clusters of low houses dug into the ground. The folk about their daily chores stared as they passed; some of the children shouted greetings; then the little village would be lost behind a new screen of forest as if it had never existed.

In those stretches of wilderness between holdings, he heard nothing except the intermittent beat of oars keeping them in the main channel and the lap of water at the bows. Once he saw a hawk half hidden among the branches of a poplar. Above, the sky was a vivid blue. In the distance the rugged mountains lifted up from a horizon untouched by haze, as though the air were somehow purer there, closer to the heavenly aether.

If he looked hard enough, could he see Liath shining in the heavens? But the air was clear, only scraps of clouds and the bright sun, concealing neither angels nor daimones. He had seen no sign of her since that awful day at Gent. Two and a half years had passed since then; it was almost as though their brief life together was only a dream remembered as if it were real.

'Do you suppose she is dead, Heribert?" he asked finally.

Heribert sighed. The slender cleric had never been one to tell him only what he wanted to hear. That was why Sanglant prized his companionship. "How can we know? I'm sorry."

'Papa! Look at me!"

Blessing had got herself into the furled rigging of the lateen sail and shinnied halfway up the mast, clinging to a rope.

'Oh, God!" Heribert hurried toward her, unsteady enough on the rocking ship that he careened into one of the sailors.

'No matter," called Sanglant after him, laughing. "She'll either fall and kill herself, or she won't."

But it quickly became clear that the captain of the ship wished no brat getting in the way, and soon enough Sanglant found himself presiding over his sullen daughter at the bow of the ship.

'On this boat, you obey the captain, who is like the regnant."

'He's only a common man, Papa."

'In your first battle, will you tell Captain Fulk he's wrong when he gives you advice just because he was born the son of a steward and you are a prince's daughter? A wise ruler knows how to listen to those who may know something she does not, and seeks out advisers who tell her the truth rather than those who simply flatter."

Ai, God, she was well grown enough to pout, arms crossed and shoulders hunched as she stared at the river. Here, as forest gave way to marsh, a heron took wing, slow flaps along the shallows until it was lost in the haze that clung to the waters. Would her life pass as swiftly as the bird's flight? Would she become an old woman before he reached thirty? He could not bear to think of losing her in such an unnatural way, having to watch as age captured her and made her its prisoner. How soon would she flower and be ready to wed? She still had a child's body, all innocent grace and coltish limbs, as lively and strong as any creature let run free. Thank the Lady she was not yet showing signs of the woman she would become; the longer he could put off such considerations the better. Yet he would have to choose carefully what man she married, because she would need every advantage when it came time to restore to her what was due her: her birthright as a descendant of the Emperor Taillefer.

In such moments, watching her, he despaired. She had much the look of Liath about her, delicate features, that creamy brown complexion, and unexpectedly blue eyes, but she had the night-black hair of the Aoi and a cast of features that reminded him of his own mother. The older she grew, the more the resemblance sharpened. By appearance alone, no one would take her for Taillefer's heir; she had not the look of the west at all. Maybe there was something of Henry in her-she had his rages, after all, and his generous ability to forgive-but as hard as ever he looked he could see no resemblance to Anne, not one bit. That made him glad.

She had such a fierce expression of affronted ire on her sweet face that he almost laughed, but he knew better than to laugh at her. She struggled, lower lip thrust out and quivering, a tear welling from one eye to slide down a cheek. Heribert moved forward to console her, but Sanglant checked him with a gesture. Anna, Thiemo, and Matto, standing alertly nearby, knew better than to intervene when he had laid down a punishment.

'Papa," she said finally, gaze still stubbornly fixed downriver. The prow of the ship cut the current to either side as the oars pulled them on and the current pressed them forward. Ahead, the gray-green waters purled around a snag that thrust up out of the water. "I would listen to Captain Fulk. I would. When can I start training to arms?"

'You're too young-" he began, the old refrain, then broke off. Why deny what was obvious to any fool traveling with his army, of whom he was obviously the chief example? He had himself been sent at the age of seven to begin his training. Six months ago she had been too young, but for Blessing a few months was like to a year for any normal person. If he did not start training her now, it might be too late, she might be grown and past her prime before she had a chance to prove herself. If she were doomed to a brief life, at least he must try to give to her all that he could, including her heart's wish: to be a soldier like her father.

'Look!" she shrieked as a cry rose from the warship running before them, the vanguard of their fleet.

The spar had grown to reveal itself as the topmost ruins of an ' ancient tower, now drowned in the shallows of the river by rising waters and a change in the river's course. Like all earthly power, the fortification had fallen in the end, its builders and queens long forgotten. But in the eddy where the river parted around that base of crumbling stone, something waited and watched. Shouts shattered the silence as other oarsmen and sailors saw what lashed in the murky water. Their cries rang out with fear and horror. Yet there it floated, a creature from nightmare, more fish than man with flat red eyes, a lipless mouth, and no nose, only slits for breathing. Each strand of its writhing hair was as thick as an eel with beady little eyes and a snapping mouth.

'Lord save us," murmured Heribert, clinging to the rail. He had gone white.

Thiemo cursed and drew the Circle of Unity at his breast, and Matto grabbed Anna as though to shield her from the sight of that ghastly thing, but she shook him off, shaking and stuttering as she gaped.

'Look, Papa!" cried Blessing, as blissful as a child who sees the first snow of winter swirling down to the ground. "It's a man-fish! I want to swim with it!"

He grabbed hold of her as they shot past, the current pouring them through a narrowing funnel between high bluffs. Yet it seemed for a long while after that he could hear the cries and alarmed shouts behind them as the other ships passed, one by one.

'What does it portend?" demanded the captain of the ship, his words translated by Brother Breschius. "An evil thing, to see one of the sea brothers swimming up the river." "Have they a name?" asked Sanglant.

'Nay, my lord prince. My grandfather spoke of them, for he was a ship-master as well. He said they were just a legend." He gestured, spitting on the deck and stamping his left foot, then recalled where he was and before whom he stood, and hastily drew the Circle of Unity at his chest as would any God-fearing man. "An evil omen, my lord prince."

'Perhaps. Did your grandfather say whether such creatures had intelligence, or whether they were only dumb beasts?"

'They have cunning, my lord prince, and hunger. It was always said they would eat any man who fell overboard."

'Yet did your grandfather or any man who sailed with him ever see such a man-fish?"

'Nay. They had only heard tales."

Tales aplenty ran round their camp that evening when they lay up alongside the shore for the night in a stretch of marshy wilderness teeming with birds. From the deck Sanglant could see five ships, one ahead and four behind, as well as a few fires burning on the strand upriver, but only the foolhardy or the thick-skinned ventured to shore, where gnats and stinging flies swarmed. It was, if anything, hotter and stickier than it had been earlier in the day.

When Captain Fulk rowed back from the foremost galley and Bertha, Wichman, Druthmar, and Istvan arrived from upriver, rather fly-bitten, he called a council. Many old tales came to light but only after he had gone round his council to hear what each member had to say did he see Zacharias standing at the back of the gathering between Hathui and Wolfhere. The frater's expression gave Sanglant pause.