"One of these days, Wykla, I think you're going to be happy. And maybe someday you'll be glad you're a woman."

She glanced behind. Wykla's blue eyes were thoughtful. "I hope for the best," she said. "And sometimes ..." She looked over at Manda, who sat before Kyria as though riding with a porcupine. "And sometimes, Dragonmaster, I think I might have reason to hope."

"Call me Alouzon, Wykla. You've earned it."

Wykla grinned and hugged her.

Darham had been generous with provisions, and there was plenty for five when they stopped for food and rest. Alouzon chatted with Wykla and Manda and did her best to be polite to Helwych-though the young man's quirky mix of bravado and uncertainty set her nerves on edge-but Kyria kept her distance, wandering off alone, treading the dead, winter grass with a measured pace, her hood up and her head bent as though in thought.

The party arrived in Kingsbury amid the early shadows of a winter dusk. Unlike Dythragor, Alouzon eschewed pomp and display, and hardly any one noticed or recognized them save for the guards at the edge of town.

But halfway up the street to the Hall, a dark-haired woman stood waiting, her bright blue mantle a pleasing contrast to the shades of gray and brown about her. In her arms she held a sleeping infant, well bundled against the cold. At her side was a thin warrior.

"Greetings, Dragonmaster," said Seena. "Welcome home."

Home. The word raised a lump in Alouzon's throat. She wished that she had a home. "Hello, Seena. You look well."

In truth, she did. No longer bound to her house, Cvinthil's wife had blossomed. She stood taller than Alouzon remembered, and her smile was open, her eyes frank. "I saw you coming," she said. "Cvinthil knows also, and is waiting for you, but I am afraid that business will leave scant time for proper welcomes. So I thought to greet you properly, so as to make up for ..." Her smile turned a little sad, and she freed a hand and produced a spray of dried flowers from beneath her cloak. "... for the first time we met."

She offered the flowers to Alouzon. "Gods bless, Dragonmaster." She nodded to the other riders. "Gods bless, all of you."

Alouzon took the flowers. "Gods bless, Seena. Thanks.'' She had thought that the slender warrior who accompanied the queen was a young man, but she suddenly realized that Seena's attendant was Relys. "Relys," she said, reaching down, "how are you?"

Relys shook hands, her face harsh in spite of its beauty. "Well enough, and cold enough, Dragonmaster. Let me add my welcome to my queen's."

Alouzon understood: Seena now had a bodyguard. "There's been trouble, then."

"Some of our people have had difficulty accepting Cvinthil's decrees regarding the womenfolk." Alouzon saw Kyria lift her head as Relys continued. "There have been . . . incidents."

"Like?"

Wykla spoke up. "A man tried to rape me, Alouzon. He failed. Other women have not been so fortunate."

Manda muttered an oath. Her eyes had narrowed. "Did you kill him?"

Wykla hesitated. Then: "I did, Manda."

"Good."

There was an odd savor in Manda's voice, and Relys eyed her for a moment. "There is resentment toward the new ways," said the lieutenant. "And, after Ban-don was destroyed ..."

Alouzon froze. Bandon.

"...the king decided to take precautions."

She steeled herself. "Bandon? Destroyed?"

"Aye. Wiped out in the space of an hour, it seems. Wykla, did you not tell the Dragonmaster the news?"

Alouzon shook her head. "I didn't ask, Relys."

"We do not know what happened," said Wykla. "From the report, it sounded as though sorcery was involved. Cvinthil sent me to Darham for aid.''

Helwych sat straighter on his horse, and he glanced sidelong at Kyria. The sorceress, though, had left her hood up, and her face was no more than a pale blur in the failing light. Only her eyes were distinct: they were focused on Seena and her child with an expression of longing that made Helwych's envies seem puerile.

Alouzon swallowed both her nausea and her wonder. "OK. It looks like you're in good hands, Seena."

Seena put an arm about Relys's waist. It was a womanly gesture, and Relys looked uncomfortable. "I know that well, Dragonmaster. These times are hard, and fearful, but the women of my land must see that it is nonetheless good to walk abroad, to meet their brothers as equals, to know that they are respected. I am myself timid, but I am their queen, and therefore I must be an example to them. Relys allows me to continue to do that." She smiled at her bodyguard. "And she is also, in turn, an example to me."

Relys tried to keep the harshness in her face as Seena turned back to Alouzon. "If you will stay in our house while you are in Kingsbury," said the queen, "you will honor my husband and myself. Ayya wishes to see you again, and ..." She smiled tenderly at the infant she held. "I am sure that Vill will be delighted, too."

Home, and babies, and all the common things that went into a lifetime, whether in Gryylth or America. Alouzon felt the lump rise again. Here she was loved. Here she was accepted. If she had any kind of a home, she supposed, it was in Gryylth. "I'll be there. Thanks."

Seena bowed. A slight nod of the head, a smile: the acknowledgment of an equal. Alouzon was flattered, and in spite of the news of Bandon, she watched Seena leave with a feeling of warmth and affection. The land she guarded was changing. And at least some of the changes were good.

Kyria spoke suddenly. "What decrees was she talking about, Alouzon?"

Wykla answered. "My lady Kyria, the women of Gryylth have only recently been given freedom. Until a year and a half ago, they were ruled by their husbands and confined td their houses."

Kyria looked about herself as though she had suddenly walked into a trap. "What kind of . . ." Abruptly, she turned, puzzled. "But you don't act like you were ever housebound, Wykla."

Wykla was silent for a moment. "My lady," she said simply, ' 'I was not always a woman.''

Kyria looked blank, but Alouzon gave her horse a light kick and continued up the street to the Hall, noting, as she rode through the gate, that one of the guards glanced fearfully at Wykla and then quickly looked away. He sported a black eye and a vicious cut on his cheek.

Some of the changes were good. But most were difficult.

Cvinthil was indeed waiting for them, and Santhe was with him. They came forward to embrace Alouzon. "My friend, you come in time of need," said the king.

"Yeah ... I got that impression."

"You bring others."

"Just one. Wykla brought the rest. This is Kyria, a ..." She looked at her companion. Appraisingly, coolly, Kyria was examining the Hall and the people in it.

Kyria returned her glance. "Go ahead."

"She's a sorceress," said Alouzon. "Mernyl passed his staff to her.''

Cvinthil did not comprehend at first. "Mernyl has been dead these eighteen months."

"Yeah. That's what we all thought."

Santhe's eyes twinkled. "It seems that, for sorcerers, such difficulties are not insurmountable." He bowed to Kyria. "Welcome to Hall Kingsbury, lady. I trust you will not find us as tedious as the Dragon-master did when first she arrived."

Kyria almost smiled, and with an uncharacteristic attempt at civility, she nodded to him. "Thank you."

Wykla introduced Manda and Helwych. Manda was polite but distant. Up until a short time ago, these people had been her enemies; and judging from the expressions of some of the newer men of the King's Guard, many Gryylthans shared her recollections and her caution. Helwych, on the other hand, drew himself up and tried to look confident, but compared with Kyria's easy grace and Manda's assurance, he seemed foolish.

Alouzon looked for Marrget, but the captain was not in the Hall. "Fear not, Dragonmaster," Santhe explained, "she is coming." He smiled conspiratorially. "She is, I believe, in bed."

"This early?"

His smile broadened.

Cvinthil formally welcomed all his guests, making special acknowledgment of Manda and Helwych. "I am glad," he said to them, "that the people of Corrin feel free now to visit their neighbor.''

Alouzon could wait no longer. "What happened to Bandon?"

Cvinthil told her, and Wykla added firsthand details about the ruined town. Alouzon listened with growing alarm, and a look at Kyria confirmed that she was not alone in drawing certain nightmarish parallels and conclusions.

Alouzon did not speak when they were done. Kyria did, though. "It sounds like an air attack," she said. "Missiles, guns, napalm, the whole works." She turned to Alouzon. "What kind of place is this, honey?"

What kind of place? Unfinished. Fragmented. Warped. A world at the mercy of its creators' inmost terrors. Alouzon passed a hand over her face and stared into Seena's flowers as though to reassure herself that there was still wholeness and sanity in the world. The words she had spoken over Bandon came back to her: You ought to be burned down. And the ground sown with salt. And if I ever get those kids out. . .

"Any survivors?" she choked.

"Some of the children, Dragonmaster," replied Santhe. He kept his voice low.

Alouzon felt the tears welling up. She heard Kyria asking: "Are the kids all right? Are they being taken care of?" Cvinthil explained his provisions for the orphans, and the sorceress swung back to Alouzon. "So what the hell's going on?" she demanded. "Who's going around napalming kids?"

Alouzon shook her head. She had to lie again. "I don't know, Kyria."

"You don't know much."

A murmur went through the hall at Kyria's words. The sorceress looked up, her expression icy. "Pardon me for living, boys."

Cvinthil regarded her with uncertainty. "Dythragor Dragonmaster introduced us to strange companions. I see that the tradition is being upheld."

"I didn't ask to get sucked into this," said Kyria. "I got dragged in. I'd just as soon leave, but I'm going to have to get to Vaylle first.''

At the name, Cvinthil's mouth tightened. "You will have company, then, mistress sorceress, for it is to Vaylle that I also wish to go. With sword and spear." He turned to Wykla. "What news from Darham?"

Wykla gave an account of her interview with the king of Corrin. She seemed more confident than Alouzon recalled-her voice and manner firm and definite-and she looked Cvinthil in the eye and repeated Darham's message without a shred of apology or hesitation.

And Darham's idea did indeed sound good to Alouzon. The story of the attack on Bandon had shoved her face into the lethal potentials of the land she had created. In light of airborne weaponry and the diseased creations that she had already encountered, an open invasion of Vaylle seemed idiotic.

She felt unclean. Napalm, machine guns, missiles: what kind of sicko would unleash such things on Gryylth? She stole a glance at Kyria, and found herself suddenly glad of the sorceress's powers.

Wykla was still talking when Marrget entered. The captain was wearing a soft, warm robe with a pattern of flowers embroidered at the collar. Her hair was rumpled, as though she had indeed come from bed. She nodded to Cvinthil and took her place at his side in silence.

Karthin had come in, too, and he stood beside her- closer than was really necessary. Marrget did not seem to mind, but when she smiled a greeting to Alouzon, she did so with an almost childlike embarrassment, as though she had been caught pilfering apples from a neighbor's tree.

"And then Darham said," Wykla finished, "that he would indeed be willing to send arms and men, but only after it is established that such a course of action is warranted. He desires a clearer idea of the nature of Vaylle."

Manda touched her gently on the shoulder. "He said more, Wykla."

Wykla colored. "It would be unseemly to mention it, friend."

Cvinthil was thoughtful. "Darham is a cautious man. Maybe he is wiser than the King of Gryylth."

Santhe shook his head. "There are many kinds of wisdom, my king."

"I think Darham's idea is pretty good," said Alouzon. "I'll go. I'll lead the party."

"As cowardly as the people of Vaylle have shown themselves, Alouzon, they are unworthy opponents for such as you."

"No, we don't know that." She wondered why she was growing so heated. Was it because she was afraid of what Vaylle might offer? Or was Cvinthil's blanket condemnation cutting too close to her heart? "A couple years ago, you were saying the same damn thing about the Corrinians, and you found out you were wrong. I say we take Darham's advice."

Marrget spoke. The steel had returned to her eyes. "But we all know that only a vicious and cowardly people would do such a thing as destroy a town without warning."

"Yeah, and you all knew that the Dremords were murdering bastards." Marrget and Karthin exchanged glances. Something that was not quite guilt, but close to it, passed between them. Alouzon stared, then found her voice again. "There are two sides to everything. Why don't we find out what's really going on?"

Marrget moved to rest her hand on her sword hilt, found that she was not armed, shrugged and folded her arms. "I am sometimes hasty, Alouzon. You know that. I fear that the fate of a small band in Vaylle might be cruel and quick, but I am willing to be swayed by your better judgment. If you wish to explore Vaylle in secret, I will go with you."

"And I," Karthin put in quickly.

Marrget lifted her eyes to his face, smiled. "I would not go without you, my friend."

Cvinthil seemed chagrined. He was a long for peace, not for war, and not only was he clumsy in the role of belligerent, he obviously knew himself to be so. "Who else wishes to go to Vaylle with Alouzon Dragonmaster?"

Wykla raised her hand, followed immediately by Santhe, who added with a laugh: "I am certain that I can find two men of the Second Wartroop foolhardy enough to join us."

"I am under orders from the King of Corrin," said Manda. ' 'Unless there is serious objection, I must accompany Alouzon Dragonmaster."

Helwych was silent, uncertain. Manda prodded him. "I . . ." He glanced around, flushed. "Is the lady Kyria going also?"

Kyria did not look at him. "I said that I was."

Helwych squared his shoulders. "Then I shall go, too."

Santhe had been counting on his fingers. "Nine," he said. "Alouzon? Will nine . . ."He looked at Helwych and smiled wryly. "... nine stalwart companions please you?''

She nodded and turned to the king. "Cvinthil, it's up to you."

The king was sad, his doe eyes deep and serious. ' 'I wish at times that Vorya were alive,'' he said softly. "He knew war, and he knew peace, too." He lifted his head. "But he is dead. So be it. I will provision you, and you will leave as soon as you will. But I will say this also: should you not return within two months, then my suspicions regarding Vaylle will be confirmed, and, with or without Corrin, I will bring an army across the White Sea."

Kyria folded her arms, her pale hand gripping her staff as though, had Solomon Braithwaite stepped into the room, she would have struck him dead without hesitation. Already raw from her own thoughts, Alouzon looked away.

Her eyes fell on Marrget. Shrewd, calculating, the captain seemed already to be planning the exploration of Vaylle, mulling over questions of strategy and tactics. But there was a depth to her expression that said that she was considering much more than mere soldiery, and Alouzon noticed that her hand was held- gently, firmly-in the large, strong hand of Karthin.

* CHAPTER 7 *

Eyes clenched, hands gripping his staff as though it were a python, Helwych grunted and strained his way out of his body. There were easier ways to do this, he knew, but Tireas's monomaniacal pursuit of the Tree had left his apprentice with only the most basic of techniques and spells.

As much as he resented the neglect, he resented even more the tacit condescension he received because of it. He read it in the eyes of others, heard it in their voices: Ah, well. We all know about Helwych. Poor lad, he could not change hay into straw to save his life, but that is no fault of his own.

The patronizing smiles had even followed him to Gryylth. Stalwart companions, indeed! Before the task was finished, he would wager, most of the stalwarts would find themselves as hopelessly unprepared as the sorcerer they so mocked.