After the evening meal Lynan stepped back from the campfire and his circle of friends.

He found himself more at peace when alone, something which confused him. He had grown up alone, Kumul's careful guardianship a light and sometimes forbiddingly remote presence, but during their flight from Kendra to the Oceans of Grass he had learned to rely on the steady companionship and protection of Kumul and Ager, Jenrosa and Gudon.

He still cared for them all dearly, but increasingly felt the need to set himself apart, to keep some distance between his new life and his old.

The firelight reflected off his hard, pale skin, and he traced a blue vein on one arm with a finger. He felt a pulse and ridiculously felt relief. He knew he was no vampire, but he also knew instinctively that he was no longer entirely human. He wondered how much of his new-found confidence-his changed nature-was due to Silona's blood. He wanted to be a creature of his own making, based on his own experiences and learning, but could not shake the thought that something of Silona's single-mindedness and grim need for isolation had been transferred to him.

He watched his companions, crouching for warmth around the fire. Gudon was smiling, head bowed next to Ager's. The two had become firm friends, and Lynan could see some similarity in their spirits, a combination of cynicism about and acceptance of the way the world was ordered. Next to Ager was Korigan, someone Lynan felt was as torn as he between two natures. Not much older than he, she was already wise in the ways of a monarch. In her was a fierce determination that frightened him a little, but was also something he now recognized in himself. Then there was Jenrosa, who still seemed beautiful to him despite her familiarity. She never snapped at him anymore, nor made fun of him in front of the others. When she looked at him, he saw sadness in her eyes, and guilt at what her actions in saving his life had made him become. He did not know how to tell her that she had done right, and it occurred to him that he did not yet know himself whether in fact she had done right. And beside Jenrosa was Kumul, father-not-father, guardian and bully, adviser and old war horse. There was a tension between them now, and it saddened Lynan.

As Lynan watched, he saw Kumul and Jenrosa hold hands. The contact was brief, but sudden awareness hit him like a blow to the stomach. He stopped breathing.

No. It isn't possible.

The two quickly glanced at each other, a joining as brief and intimate as their holding hands.

Lynan turned from the fire and walked into the night.

"We have some of the new swords you asked to be made," Gudon told Ager. "Only a handful so far."

"Already?" Ager was surprised. The forges had only been working for three days.

"We would have had them yesterday, but the first mold cracked."

"Can I see them?""Of course. We must go to the village."

The two made their excuses and left. Ager gathered his poncho around him as the warmth of the fire receded. He looked with envy at Gudon, striding along as if it was a balmy summer afternoon. He did not think the cold was something he would ever get used to. His breath frosted in the night air and he had to hurry to keep up with the Chett.

Their feet crunching on brittle grass was the only sound except for the distant lowing of the cattle.

They passed between arrow trees, catching glimpses of other campfires. Ager could not see anyone else, but could somehow feel the weight of the thousands of Chetts that surrounded them.

There must be as many people here as there are in the cities of Sparro or Daavis, he thought, but they may as well be ghosts.

As he drew closer to the village, he could hear the sound of the furnace and hammer, of fiery steel hissing as it was poured into molds. Mechanical sounds, and out of place here on the Oceans of Grass. Up ahead he saw the yellow glimmer of molten metal and the angry red of hot coals.

Gudon directed him to a hut before they reached the furnaces. New weapons were stacked neatly against wooden frames. He saw his short swords and eagerly picked up one by its tang.

"When will they be finished?"

"Soon. We are using bone for the hilt, and leather and sinew to finish the grip. What do you think?"

"Hard to tell before the grip's finished, but the weight feels right." Ager took it out of the hut and held it up so he could study it under moonlight. The blade was unpolished, and seemed flat and dull. "They need some work, but I think they'll be fine."

"If we'd had more time, we would have forged them, but to get the numbers you want we had to use molds."

Ager grunted. Still holding the tang, he placed the sword point on a large rock and stepped on the blade. The point skidded across the rock, sending sparks into the air. "It's strong." He whacked the edge of the blade against the rock and heard a satisfying thwang. "The blade is not brittle at all. This is good work." He replaced the unfinished sword in the hut.

"Let's get back to the fire. I'm freezing."

Gudon grinned at him. "You will have time to get used to it."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"I hope not."

They were halfway back when Gudon stopped. He frowned and cocked his head as if listening for something.

"What's wrong?" Ager asked.

"Something is not right."

"What exactly?"

"I don't-"

Before he could finish, three dark shapes rose from the darkness around them. Ager saw moonlight glimmer off steel. Without shout or cry, their attackers were upon them.Ager had time to draw his saber, but it was knocked out of his hand before he could raise it. He threw himself forward against the legs of his closest assailant and they went down together. Ager clawed for his enemy's face, found something soft, and gouged as hard as he could. A woman screamed. He rolled off the body and felt on the ground for his sword.

He heard a blade whistling through the air and rolled again, heard it bite into the ground where his head had just been. He lashed out with his foot and kicked the sword away, then scrambled to his feet. A fist whacked into his ear. He shouted in pain, ducked, and charged forward, but his attacker had moved and he stumbled back to the ground. He turned onto his back in time to see a dark silhouette looming above him, a sword raised high. Then the figure jerked and fell, and Ager saw Gudon whirl away to meet the surviving attackers.

Cursing, Ager got to his feet for the second time, retrieved the fallen enemy's sword, and joined Gudon. The pair split apart, forcing the attackers in different directions. The moon swung behind Ager and he gasped in surprised.

"Katan!" he hissed. The Chett tried to retreat, but Ager was furious and redoubled his efforts. Their blades struck sparks into the night. Ager lunged, lunged again, trying to use the point, but Katan was too quick and had learned something from their first bout in front of the two circles. Ager parried a swipe at his neck, crossed his right leg over his left and swung a full circle. He hard Katan's sword swish past his ear. The edge of his saber sank into the Chett's flank and shuddered when it hit the rib cage. Katan moaned, his eyes looked up in surprise, and he fell in a heap.

Ager spun around and saw Gudon wiping his blade on the poncho of the dead woman at his feet.

"It was Katan," Ager said, pointing at the chief's corpse.

"Katan's wife," Gudon said. Together they went to the first enemy Gudon had slain.

"Katan's son?" Ager asked.

Gudon nodded. "Neither father nor son were that good with the saber. The woman was very good. Better than me."

"How did you beat her?"

Gudon grunted. "She was bleeding from one eye."

"Ah." Ager threw down his borrowed saber and found his own. "Who do you think they were after? You for supporting Korigan, or me for humiliating Katan in front of the two circles?"

"Or was Katan working to whittle away some of Korigan and Lynan's support?"

"On his own initiative?"

Gudon shrugged. "No way to tell. Were you hurt?"

"My ear's numb and I hear bells inside my head."

"At least you're not hearing air whistle through a cut throat."

Other Chetts appeared, carrying torches. In a short time they were surrounded by a small crowd.

"We should move on in case others from the Ocean clan make an appearance and decide to take their revenge," Gudon said in a low voice.

They soon left the crowd behind. "If Katan was after us to weaken Lynan's position,"

Ager said, "and Katan was only one among however many disgruntled chiefs, then they could try and kill Lynan himself.""Truth."

"He needs a bodyguard."

"Truth."

"And a bodyguard needs a captain. Someone who knows how Chetts think. Someone who will choose only the most loyal warriors."

Gudon considered the suggestion. "Do you have an ideas?"

"I'm sure something will come to you," Ager said, and then: "I don't think you'll have to look far."

Chapter 11.

Areava was cold in her bedchamber. There was a fire blazing in the hearth and the morning sun shone through the east window, but still she was cold. Her handmaids busied themselves with her hair and then dressed her. She could not look at them. When her gown was finished, the handmaids put on her rings and her simple gold tiara, and then a wreath of white star flowers, the only ones that bloomed in winter. Finally, they carefully draped the Key of the Scepter-star-shaped with a vertically placed scepter in its center-and the Key of the Sword-square-shaped with two crossed swords pierced by a spear-around her neck, their heavy gold chains a symbol of their burden as well as their power.

Someone knocked on the door and it opened slowly. Har-nan Beresard's old face appeared. "Your Majesty?"

"You can come in, Harnan. I am finished dressing."

He took a few steps, then stopped and gawked at her. "Your Majesty! You are..." His mouth worked, but he could not make the word come out.

Areava turned to face her secretary. Her gown, layers of white wool with individual threads of gold through it, swished on the wooden floor. Its tight-fitting bodice revealed her slender form to best effect, and the full skirt seemed to flow from her waist. Harnan shook his head in wonder. He thought if winter could be personified, it would look like his queen. Tall and pale, severe, achingly beautiful. All but the eyes, which seemed lost.

"What is wrong?" he asked.

Areava nodded to her handmaids and they quickly scurried from the room. "Am I doing the right thing?" she asked.

Harnan blinked. He had never expected to hear the queen voice that question. "Your Majesty?"

"Marrying Sendarus. Is it the right thing to do?"

Harnan spread his hands helplessly. "All Grenda Lear rejoices. They are happy for you. Overjoyed."

Areava looked disappointed, but nodded. Harnan blushed, knowing he had said the wrong thing but not knowing what would have been the right thing.

"What did you want?"

"To let you know that King Marin has arrived.""Oh. Good."

"He wanted to know if you wanted to see him right away."

She shook her head. "Let him greet his son first. They have not seen each other for several months. I will have many opportunities after the wedding to talk with the king ...

with my father-in-law." She swallowed.

"As you wish." Harnan bowed and moved to leave, but hesitated. He could not help feeling she should not be left alone.

"Is there something else?" Areava asked tonelessly.

"No, your Majesty." He bowed again and went to the door. It opened before he got there and Olio entered. Harnan breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"Good m-m-morning, sister," Olio said brightly.

"Am I doing the right thing?" she asked him immediately.

Olio threw a glance at Harnan; the secretary raised his eyebrows but said nothing, then left.

"About what?"

"Don't be obtuse," she snapped, then closed her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Do you love Sendarus?" Olio asked carefully.

"With all my heart."

"Then you are concerned for the kingdom."

Areava nodded. "I am its queen."

"You are also a woman. No kingdom demands its ruler stay celibate." He smiled immediately at his own choice of words, knowing that celibacy was not the problem. "Or indeed, unwed."

"But outside of the Twenty Houses."

"Our m-m-mother wed outside of the Twe-" Olio's mouth snapped shut, and he cursed himself.

"And produced Lynan."

"You are not m-m-marrying a commoner," Olio said. "You are m-m-marrying a p-p-prince."

"And I am marrying an alliance."

"You cannot m-m-make an alliance with a subject p-p-province."

"By marrying Sendarus I raise Aman from its knees. It need no longer genuflect before Kendra."

"M-m-maybe not a bad thing."