"Then someone must be with him all the time, someone we trust."

"Who?"

"A guard, a priest, a magicker. I don't know."

"He won't allow it."

"He will," Edaytor said, his voice suddenly firm. "He will, or we will go to Areava. He would agree to anything to stop us doing that. He is terrified she would put a stop to his healing, maybe even force him to surrender the Key."

For a moment neither man said anything or, if they did, Olio could not hear them.

Footsteps, coming his way. He hastily retreated from the door, ran into the bed, and stumbled. He sat on the floor with a jarring thump and put his hands out to stop himself from falling backward. His right hand landed on the Key. Startled he glanced around, and at the same time the door opened wide. He looked back and saw the grim faces of the primate and the prelate staring down at him. They seemed curiously matched, Olio thought: Northam long and large, with huge hands and feet, and Edaytor shorter but almost as heavy, with the face and gentle nature that seemed priestlike to the prince.

"He overheard," Northam said.

"But how much?"

"M-m-most of it, I think," Olio admitted, his voice not much more than a hoarse whisper.

"What happened tonight?" Northam demanded.

"I... I don't know. I m-m-must have been drinking."

"You broke your trust," Edaytor said sadly. "I did not think you would ever do that."

"I didn't want to," he said weakly. He turned his face from them.

"We are going to stop the healing," Northam said."I know."

He picked up the Key and looped the chain over his neck. It was cold against his skin now.

"It has burned you," Northam said, pointing to the prince's chest. "Do you know why it has done this?" he asked the prelate.

Edaytor shook his head. "No one really knows or understands the full extent of the Keys' powers. Obviously they were never meant to be used as often as this one has been since his Highness has had possession of it."

Tears came to Olio's eyes again. "B-b-but all the children. I could not let them die."

"They will die as children have always died in this city," Northam told him. "As they have always died in every city in Grenda Lear."

"Let the hospice continue," Olio pleaded. "I will stay away from it, but I can still support it. That will save some of them."

Northam bowed his head in thought. "Very well," he said at last. "But the moment I hear you have been using the Key, or that you have been drinking again, I will close it...

forever."

Olio seemed to shrink in on himself. To Northam and Edaytor he looked at that moment like a lost child himself, abandoned and afraid.

Chapter 10.

A thin layer of snow had settled across the grasslands around the High Sooq. Cattle licked the snow for water and then ate the yellowed grass underneath. Their breaths filled the shallow valley with clouds of steam. Above all the sun shone, distant and weak, but a welcoming sight in the cold, empty blue sky. Lynan sat in the saddle, trying not to grin as he looked out over the strength and wealth of the combined clans.

I belong to them, he thought.

It had been some time now since he had last felt the inhuman rage and yearning that had visited him in the autumn or experienced any terrible nightmares about Silona and her forest, and he could enjoy the day now that the temperature had dropped. For the first time since fleeing the Strangers' Sooq he felt whole and entirely his own.

With a twinge of guilt he remembered the way he had treated Kumul, but it reminded him he was entirely his own in another way, too. He now made the decisions that affected his future. He had grown up, he realized, and was proud of it.

And with that came new responsibilities. Kumul and Ager had taught him that his decisions affected more than himself; as a prince, his thoughts and actions determined what happened to his followers. In a strange way, the realization reinforced his confidence; he had been right to come to the High Sooq, but he understood that did not mean Kumul had been completely wrong. Ultimately, his future- and the future of his followers-would be determined in the east. That is where he had to look.

Two things I need. An army and the will to use it.

He thought he had the second, and now it was time to go about achieving the first.

Two riders approached, intruding on his isolation. He wished them away, but theycame on anyway. He soon recognized Korigan, but it was not until they were much closer that he identified the second. It was the young Terin, chief of the Rain clan and close ally of Korigan. He remembered then he had mentioned to Korigan he wanted to meet with Terin, but had not meant this very morning.

"Korigan said you wanted to see me, your Majesty," Terin said, a little breathlessly.

Lynan, forgetting his own youth, could not help thinking Terin was far too young to be a clan chief.

Lynan opened his mouth to ask him not to call him "your Majesty" but changed his mind. He had asked Korigan and Gudon the same thing, several times, but it made no difference. "Thank you for coming," he said instead.

Terin looked surprised, as if Lynan requesting his presence was an order he must carry out without hesitation and required no thanks. The idea unsettled Lynan.

"Last night Eynon asked you if your clan had any contact with the mercenaries."

"That's right, your Majesty. To the best of my knowledge, no one in my clan has had any such contact."

"Have you noticed any strange happenings across the border? Any movements of troops or other military activity."

Terin frowned in thought. "No..." He stopped. "Although in autumn we lost two outriders who were patrolling that part of our territory."

"What happened to them?" Lynan asked.

Terin shrugged. "Every clan loses some outriders to wolves or a startled boar karak. I sent troops out to find them, but they came back with nothing, not even their mounts."

"Is it rare to lose the horses as well as the riders?"

"It happens, but not often. The mares know how to find their way back to the clan."

"They may have seen something," Korigan suggested.

"Possibly."

"What do you want me to do?" Terin asked.

"How soon before your clan can safely leave the High Sooq?"

"Not for another two months, your Majesty, but if you order us to go, we will leave tomorrow ..."

"No. I will not place your clan in danger."

Terin simply nodded, but the look of relief on his face was obvious. "I can send out small troops, though. They can take extra horses with supplies."

"What do you have in mind?" Korigan asked Lynan.

"I need to know what's happening on the border. I need to know whether or not the mercenaries are planning to raid into the Oceans of Grass. If they are, and they are going to make their move in spring, there will be some sign of it."

"My riders can do that," Terin said. "They know that region better than anyone, and if they know what to look out for, they will not be caught by surprise."

"They are not to start a fight," Lynan said quickly. "I need information."

"What if an opportunity arises to capture a prisoner?" Korigan asked.

"Good, if they can do so without alarming the enemy.""They can, your Majesty," Terin said with confidence.

"Can they leave tomorrow?"

Terin grinned, making himself look almost childlike. "I will send two troops out today.

They will be on the border in a week."

Lynan could not help grinning back. The young chief's enthusiasm was infectious.

"Thank you, Terin."

Terin bowed his head, wheeled his horse, and galloped back to his camp.

Korigan kneed her horse closer to Lynan's. "What are you planning?"

"Planning? Nothing at the moment. I have no idea what the mercenaries are intending, if indeed they are intending anything at all. But I think the sooner we give the Chetts something to worry about, the sooner they will unite behind your banner."

"They will unite behind you whatever may come," Korigan said confidently.

Lynan shook his head. "No. The surprise we pulled at last night's meeting will wear off soon, and some of the those chiefs who are opposed to you will realize there is no danger in opposing me. I have brought no army with me and the affairs of the east are not important to them."

Korigan thought about Lynan's words, and nodded. "You may be right. But Terin's troops may not return with information for several weeks, if they return with anything."

"Then we must keep the clans busy."

"How? They are already busy with winter."

"Then they must be kept even busier," Lynan said. "We must train them. We must make an army."

It was rare for the two circles to be called twice in one winter, but none of the chiefs refused Lynan's request. It was held soon after dawn, and the first circle gathered eagerly around the central fire to warm themselves.

When Herita called Lynan to speak, he immediately declared his intention.

"The mercenaries pose a real threat to the Chetts. Many of you will remember what they did to your clans before the Slaver War. We must stop those times from coming back. The only way to do this is to ride against the mercenaries before they ride against us."

No voices were raised in disagreement, and there were even a few cheers.

"For a Chett army to operate effectively, it will have to be trained to fight as one."

His words were met with a stupefied silence.

"Trained?" Akota asked after a while. "Us? Trained to fight?"

"Yes," Lynan said evenly.

"But we are the Chetts," she said, obviously confused by the notion. "We are trained as warriors as soon as we are old enough to ride, and that is before we are old enough to walk."

"Nevertheless, to fight against the mercenaries, to fight in the east, you will need training, and to fight against Areava, if she is directing mercenaries against you, you will need training."Akota looked as if she was about to continue, but shook her head. Instead, another chief stood up.

"My name is Katan, and I am chief of the Ocean clan."

Herita glanced at Lynan, and he nodded for Katan to continue.

"What exactly can anyone from the east teach us about fighting?"

There was a general murmur of agreement from the gathered Chetts.

Lynan smiled slightly. "No one doubts the worth of the Chetts when it comes to courage, and to skill with bow and saber. I do not think anyone on the continent of Theare could teach the Chetts anything in that regard."

"Then what training are you talking about?"

"Great fighters do not necessarily make great soldiers."

"They are just words," Katan said derisively.

"They are more than words," Kumul said, stepping forward to stand beside Lynan. "I have seen what happens when a trained army fights an untrained rabble. It is always a massacre. No fighter, no matter now brave or skilled in the individual use of weapons, can match a trained soldier."

Katan puffed out his chest. "I can prove otherwise."

Lynan regarded him for a moment, then said: "Very well. What do you suggest?"

"My fighting skill against the best soldier from the east. I challenge Kumul Alarn."

The members of both circles gave an approving roar.

"I accept," Kumul said. There was another roar of approval. Kumul held his head high and pulled back his shoulders, his hand on his sword. Lynan felt suddenly small next to the giant. Even Katan wilted a little, but he did not recall the challenge.

Lynan waited until the noise subsided and said: "No."