The odd thing was, this version of events made more sense to the baron than the reality he knew. Lady Melina was a nice-looking piece, but he'd seen better, had better-much better. His own wife was more attractive if it came down to that.

There was Lady Melina's high birth and the lure of that conquest, but would that have been enough to make him act like an idiot? Intellectually, Waln knew that had been the case. On some deeper level, he could almost feel the tendrils of enchantment that had wrapped around his soul and made him act as he otherwise would not have.

For a fleeting moment, Waln wondered if perhaps he should take his account-this version of it-before Queen Valora. However, now that his head was clear, prudence won out-that and the discovery that he had acquired an aversion to powerful women.

Waln had expected Longsight to sneer at him, to ridicule and mock him for his weakness. What he hadn'tentertained was the possibility of being believed. Longsight, however, was nodding slowly, as solemn as judgment.

"We've seen something of her mother's power these long days since you left the girl, Citrine, with us."

The baron noted that Longsight's knuckles, where he grasped the back of the chair, grew white as he told the tale.

"One of my young bucks-looking, he says, to please me, but I think he meant to steal it for himself-backed the girl into a corner and was setting about cutting that jeweled diadem from her head.

"The girl set up such a screaming that we heard it from the light to the cellar. Even when my buck-Red Stripe, they're calling him now-put his hand over her mouth and near suffocated her the girl just kept screaming. Shrill as a seagull she was, but not near as melodious. Even after she shouldn't have had air to yell, she kept hollering and wailing.

"I came thumping up the stair in time to whack Cime-him that's Red Stripe now-on the head before he killed the girl out of fear. As soon as she calmed down, the girl herself told us what happened-and later I checked the story with Cime before sending him for a lashing, so I know it's true."

Longsight's voice dropped low and fearful.

"The girl ended with saying-prissy as a schoolmarm I had back when I was a lad, she was-'My mother bound that stone to me when I was just a baby. I've worn it since, though at times I've hated the thing. I'd give it to you if I could, but take it from me and I'll die.'

"I tell you, Waln, my blood ran cold to hear a child talk that way. There was truth in it. That's why I have no problem believing that the Lady Melina trapped you by sorcery. If she'd do such to her own child, she'd do it to a stranger."

Amazed by this bit of good luck, Waln considered that perhaps he should have expected this reaction.

No profession he knew-except possibly the legendary market gamblers of Waterland-created such faith in superst.i.tions as that of the sailor. It grew out of challenging wind and water, from all the little rituals one fell into almost unconsciously when trying to propitiate that which could drown you without thought or malice.

Warn adapted his tactics swiftly, unwilling to risk Longsight's awed terror transforming into angry resentment at his own fear.

"I'm going to get my own back from Lady Melina," Waln announced sternly, "whether she is a sorceress or not, but it's a foolish man who sticks his hand in a fire knowing he'll be burnt. Not until I've got her softened up will I go after her."

Longsight's eyes narrowed and he looked stern, but Waln noted the nervous way his tongue traveled around his teeth, pausing at the broken one, as if testing all were there.

"I can't send any men with you," Longsight said. "Winter is when the Light is most defenseless-the swamp firms some with the cold and the waters near the sh.o.r.e are yet navigable. My trust is holding this place and I will not weaken it for you-even if you go after that sorceress."

Or, thought Waln with irony, aware of his own growing confidence, perhaps especially if I do.

"I wouldn't expect that of you," he said aloud, trusting to his own strength that Longsight would let the hint of mockery pa.s.s. "I want to use your network, not your men. Lady Melina needs to be softened, as Isaid. All I want, for now, is someone to deliver a message."

"A message?" Longsight looked interested.

"That's right." Waln's smile became cruel. "Before I agreed to escort her to New Kelvin, I extracted safeguards from Lady Melina, meant to a.s.sure her good behavior. One of them you hold here-the girl, Citrine."

Longsight nodded, but again his tongue flickered round his lips.

"Now the lady trusted to have me murdered as she had my man Driver murdered. Then she would have ransomed back her daughter from your keeping."

At least I believe she would, thought Waln with a trace of uneasiness, for on this belief lay the foundation of his new plan.

"I want to send Lady Melina a reminder that her daughter is in my keeping-and an a.s.surance that though she must believe me dead, that I am very much alive and ready to oppose her."

Longsight grinned. "You believe she is in Dragon's Breath?"

"I do," Waln said, "or if she is not, that there will be those in the Dragon Speaker's service who will know where she is. Can you get a message there-a message and a small package?"

"I can," Longsight replied. "I'll even wait to charge you postage till the spring."

"No need," Waln said airily. "When I am stronger, I can draw funds from a contact in Port Haven."

Longsight looked pleased.

"We'll keep the girl on trust till we're paid," he said with a sudden return to toughness.

Waln knew he had won for now, but he didn't dare alienate Longsight-not just yet. He made a show of lowering his gaze as if the concession had been forced from him. In reality, he had never intended to take Citrine away from the lighthouse. She was much more secure there than any place he could hide her.

"Of course, Longsight. However you wish."

Longsight was pleased. Without fully standing, he managed to twirl the chair under him so that he could lean against the back.

"Tell me now, Baron Endbrook, what size package do you need to send?"

"Nothing very large," Waln a.s.sured him, "just a lock of hair-and a finger or two."

Five days had pa.s.sed since the comb, ring, and mirror had been taken from their boxes before the witnessing Primes. In that time, initial optimism that the wisdom of New Kelvin would force the three artifacts to quickly reveal their secrets had vanished.

Five days had pa.s.sed if you counted the actual day of the unboxing-as those who opposed Lady Melina's involvement did, four days if one only counted the subsequent days.

Grateful Peace was among those inclined to reckon that four days had pa.s.sed. Certainly nothing productive had been done that first day. Oh, the artifacts had been weighed and measured, the materialsof their construction subjected to minute, if cautious, examination, but no real, practical work had begun until the next day.

Testing had begun with the ring, for there wasn't a single New Kelvinese who had grown to adulthood without hearing wonderful tales of enchanted rings that held within their compact shapes magics beyond imagining.

The gold from which the ring was crafted was not the purest-a piece of information that, while it had disappointed the poets among them, had given Peace reason for hope. As he saw things, who would want a ring made of pure gold? Pure gold was soft, so malleable that it could be bent beneath the slightest finger pressure. A ring made of pure gold would never hold an inscription; settings would fall from the p.r.o.ngs bent to hold them. The metal itself would become easily scratched or scuffed, thus diminishing the very beauty for which the metal was valued.

Tollius, of the Sodality of Smiths, argued that the Founders could have enchanted pure gold to unusual hardness, but Peace was not convinced. Why waste enchantment if a less pure alloy would do? Many of the writings implied that a single artifact could contain only so much magical force. If this was the case, then an enchantment to harden pure gold would take up s.p.a.ce that could have been used for something much more interesting.

No, never mind the arguments raised by his a.s.sociates, Peace found the quality of gold used for the ring a reason for great optimism.

The carved stone in the ring's setting proved to be-as it had seemed under casual observation-a moonstone. This stone lived up to the expectations of those who believed that only the best and purest would be used in an enchanted artifact.

Pearly white touched with mysterious hues of blue and pink, the gem's color shifted with the light. The moonstone gave the impression of shining from within, as if it soaked up light and gave it back from within its secret heart.

Unhappily, this was just an illusion. Carried within a darkened room the gem failed to shine at all, but this did not make anyone lose hope. The ring remained a promising artifact. Already factions were quietly politicking to forbid Lady Melina to take the ring as her promised reward.

The mirror was nearly as satisfactory as the ring-indeed there were those who found it more so. They recited tales of mirrors used for scrying, for communication with distant places, for magnifying the heat and light of the sun (as in the tale of the Star Wizard's battle against the Dragon of Despair-the very dragon who was said to be bound beneath the city of Dragon's Breath and to heat with its fiery breath the waters that steamed from beneath the earth).

The reflective surface of the mirror proved to be polished silver, not gla.s.s. The frame had been fitted together from intricately interlocking pieces of ivory. There was some debate as to the source of the ivory, for it seemed to hold a more delicate color than the whale's teeth that were the usual source, but no one questioned that it was ivory.

Posa, the thaumaturge who represented the Illuminators and was one of Peace's oldest friends, created a small stir when she declared that there were minute particles of ground gem-stones in the pigments that had been used to tint the ivory. Some declared that these were necessary elements of the sorcerous formulation and so a clue to how the Founders bound magic into an artifact. Others, like Peace himself, wondered if they might not have been included simply because they were pretty.

Even the comb, upon more detailed inspection, showed more promise than it had initially. Afterscrupulous inspection and much arguing and calling for yet one more specialist, no one, not the wood carvers, the botanists, nor the antiquarians, could identify the wood from which it had been made.

Moreover, this wood proved to be surpa.s.singly hard and amazingly heavy. Yet there was no doubt that the material was wood, for it possessed a definite grain never found in any other material. Traces of bark were evident along the edge opposite the tines.

Unhappily, these initial discoveries were not followed by some quick revelation of how to activate the magic the artifacts must hold within them.

To facilitate investigation, Apheros appointed a conclave of sorcerers from those sodalities that seemed to have the most to contribute to the investigation. The conclave members were given a.s.sistants who could do the more menial tasks, such as making simple drawings or hunting out references from the huge library that had been carefully preserved since the days of the first Healed One.

Although the conclave initially concentrated their efforts on the ring, within a few days they split into three teams. Still, though they discovered more details about each artifact's construction, they failed to unleash the forces bound within.

Grateful Peace, in his joint capacities of a senior Illuminator and the Dragon's Eye, was appointed a member of the initial conclave. When the teams were created, he politely refused a place on any single team. His excuse was that as an Illuminator, what he could contribute best were the odd sc.r.a.ps of knowledge he had acc.u.mulated during his years as a copyist.

This was completely true. Posa was already working with the team a.s.signed to the mirror; as her expertise in the matter of inks and pigments was legendary, Peace could add nothing more.

Needless to say, Peace had ulterior motives behind his refusal. Drifting from group to group, listening to their discussions, observing their interplay, he was in a position to coordinate the information. Doubtless some-including Lady Melina-thought him nothing but a toady and spy for the Dragon Speaker. Peace didn't mind. He had long delighted in being undervalued.

As the days pa.s.sed, Peace detected a current that tugged at the fringes of his attention, a subtle shifting of the internal dynamics of the various groups. A force was influencing the activities of the conclave, directing the course of the various investigations with a word, a hint, a smile.

This subtle manipulator was, unsurprisingly, Lady Melina Shield.

Her influence evolved gradually so that at first Peace did not trust his own impressions, but once he was aware of them, her actions were unmistakable. Lady Melina was making allies of some of the most important thaumaturges in New Kelvin. Perhaps she merely sought to preserve her life, for she must have suspected that her usefulness to Apheros would vanish as soon as the magic within the artifacts was unlocked. That made perfect sense. Peace even respected the lady for her foresight.

Grateful Peace wondered if he should draw the Dragon Speaker's attention to this development. He hesitated. Lady Melina was doing nothing wrong. Indeed her suggestions were facilitating the investigation. She had a gift for the flattering word that made a criticism acceptable, for the suggestion that interrupted a pointless debate, the encouragement that drew out the thoughts of a shy theorist.

If he did report her, Peace thought, might not his words seem nothing more than petty jealousy that she was wielding the influence that should be his as a member of the Speaker's inner circle?

Moreover, despite Apheros's initial aloofness toward her, the Dragon Speaker was now obviously quitepleased with Lady Melina. Her arrival and the unveiling of the three artifacts had distracted the thaumaturges from the issue of whether to continue pursuing the old ways or to move into new. His office was more secure than it had been for some time.

The signs of Apheros's favor were obvious even to those who did not have Peace's discerning and suspicious eye. No longer did Lady Melina dine from a tray in the isolation of her chamber. No longer did she make do without servants. If she was not dining at the Dragon Speaker's table, she was the guest of some other important thaumaturge, sometimes even of the Healed One himself. Her servants were drawn from the ranks of the well-trained and polished. Kistlio was appointed her secretary.

Grateful Peace had come in for little of the lady's attention since the day she-quite wrongly-a.s.sessed him as unimportant. Now, watching the changing dynamics within the court, he did nothing to alter her feelings. He knew it was unlikely that any of his peers would advise her of the truth about him. Lady Melina would not be so cra.s.s as to state her opinion of Peace aloud, for he did hold t.i.tle and rank.

When they met-which was frequently-she was polite and solicitous. However, Grateful Peace no longer came under the intense focus of her crystal blue eyes; he was no longer the one she barraged with questions.

Unwilling to admit he was jealous, Grateful Peace told himself he was relieved. As the five days became six and the six seven, he realized that he was relieved. He also began to suspect that Lady Melina was involved in some project far more interesting to her than unraveling the secrets held by the three artifacts.

If he hadn't had those first days alone with her, he might have suspected she was a spy for her king or his heir, her daughter. Her fierce, quickly dampened anger when Sapphire had been mentioned convinced Peace that there was no love lost between mother and daughter-that there had not been since the daughter had rebelled against her mother a few moonspans before.

No, Lady Melina was not working for Hawk Haven. Clearly, given her willingness to conspire in the murder of Baron Endbrook, she was not working for Queen Valora. Bright Bay, its king completely and willingly under the influence of Hawk Haven, was not a separate player in this game.

Perhaps she played for the influence of House Gyrfalcon. Perhaps, as Peace had thought initially, she meant to preserve herself against a.s.sa.s.sination. However, as he considered Lady Melina and what he was learning of her devious inclinations, more possibilities occurred to him.

Perhaps Lady Melina meant to unlock the secrets held in the three artifacts and then, with the aid of some willing lackey, steal them away. Perhaps she meant to secure the best single artifact for herself and was making allies against the day she would need to argue her case before the gathered Primes.

Perhaps she hoped to remain in New Kelvin even after the three artifacts were activated and her immediate purpose fulfilled. That would be safer than returning to Hawk Haven, where she was already quite unpopular. Lady Melina was not the type to accept the lower social role to Which foreign residents of New Kelvin were relegated. Perhaps she merely meant to make enough highly ranking contacts to a.s.sure that she would continue to move in the best circles.

As the days pa.s.sed, Grateful Peace considered these things even as he moved about the Granite Tower, where the experiments on the artifacts were being conducted.

He thought about his suspicions when he paused to puzzle over an inscription found concealed in the leaves of the mirror's carving. Considered more as he marveled over the revelation that the "wood" of which the comb was made also partook of the qualities of stone. Worried even as he discussed the possible implications of the little compartment discovered behind the moonstone face of the ring.The more he studied her, the more alien Lady Melina seemed, her very body language a mask behind which her true intentions were hidden. As her tongue became more facile in New Kelvinese, she used her native language less. She had her lady's maid decorate her face with touches of color, especially about her eyes, which daily became more and more the focus of her face.

Most of the thaumaturges were delighted, seeing this as her submission to the greatness of New Kelvinese culture. Peace was not so certain.

The more acceptable Lady Melina became by local standards, the more Grateful Peace sensed that she wore a mask-a mask he could not even guess how to lift so that he could see the true face she concealed behind its elaborate, empty form.

There had been other bodies down in the bottom of the cleft in the rock where they had thrown the bandits: old bodies whose bones had snapped and cracked under the burden tossed down onto them, bodies not so old whose rotting the cold might have slowed but had not stopped.

If, as Firekeeper had been taught, it was wrong to kill humans unless in self-defense-or defense of the homeland, which was like defense of the self, at least as Derian confusingly explained it-then the killing of the eleven bandits had been not only necessary but good.

Prepared to rejoice as after a successful hunt, Firekeeper had been unsettled by the predominantly somber mood of her companions. There was relief, but no joy. Only Edlin Norwood seemed to feel any satisfaction at all, but before they had finished the meal Elise and Wendee had prepared for them, he, too, had gotten caught up in the pervading mood of gloom.

Firekeeper, not liking this at all, had slipped from the fireside to run with Blind Seer. The Royal Wolf was feeling quite pleased with himself-his mood was at least more what she had expected.

Over and over again Blind Seer bragged about his prowess, relating how he had run across the rocks, never once slipping though pockets of snow and ice made the surface treacherous.

"And then I leapt," he howled, a baying bark in the notes, "I leapt, limbs stretching so that I could feel the strength and power in my mighty muscles. With a mere toss of my head, I sent one man-armed, mind you, armed with a bow whose deadly hail of arrows might have torn through my fur to paint the stone with the scarlet of my blood-I sent that man crashing to the hard rocks below.

"Then I leapt again and this time my fangs ripped into the bandit's flesh. I ripped, I tore, but my great might was not needed. The fragile human ripped in two, streaking my fur with the tribute of his lifeblood..."

Really, Firekeeper enjoyed the boastful recital, but after she'd heard it-or variations on it-three or four times, she made a leap of her own. She caught the blue-eyed wolf off guard and together they rolled about on the cold, hard ground. The violent exercise washed from her the last of the impotent fury she had felt when the bandits had forced her to return lest she be the cause of Derian's death.

"Even more than war," she said to Blind Seer as they were catching their breath after their romp, "I have decided that I don't like bandits. I don't like this taking of a person so another person cannot act freely.

War is ugly, wasteful, and foolish, but banditry is hateful. I am glad the bandits are dead and I cannot understand why the others are not singing their triumph around the fire."

"Humans!" Blind Seer snorted."They were brave!" Firekeeper persisted. "Edlin gliding over the stone to deliver death with his arrows.

Doc, Wendee, Derian, even unblooded Elise, they were all brave. Why do they sit hanging their heads and acting like yearlings who have tried an elk and been kicked in the head for their presumption?"

Blind Seer shook his great s.h.a.ggy head, a gesture he was attempting to learn so he could communicate at least a little with the humans in whose company he so frequently found himself.

"Humans," he said, "are incomprehensible-all but you, dearest... and you," he added quickly when he saw Firekeeper raise her fist to thump him, "you are a wolf in all but form."

Disheveled and tired but inwardly happy, Firekeeper returned to the others. It was nice to come to a fire you didn't need to kindle yourself, nice to have a bit of warm food set aside for you. Being with humans wasn't all bad.

Derian broke what was evidently, judging from how the others started at the sound of his voice, a long silence.

"I am wondering," he said, his voice low and rough, "if I am responsible for what happened to us today."

Doc asked, his voice shaped by puzzlement, "What do you mean, Derian?"

"I mean, I'm wondering if by asking around Gateway about best routes and all the rest I tipped off someone who contacted the bandits. A fast rider could have beaten us here-especially one who knows local shortcuts-or a carrier pigeon could have carried word ahead."

"Don't," Elise said in clipped tones that, despite their lighter note, held something of her father in them, "take onto yourself more than your due. Winter trade is common-though more comes through Plum Orchard than through Stilled. These bandits may regularly raid this pa.s.s-a strike or two that takes in goods, livestock, and resalable persons would set them up for quite a while."

Derian smiled what Firekeeper thought was a rather stiff and unnatural smile.

"Maybe that is so," he admitted, "but I've been worrying. They were so well prepared, took us so easily..."

"Don't," Elise repeated. "They might have had a spy at the last inn or along the road. Try not to beat up on yourself for something that you weren't to blame for, and that came out all right in the end."