"I have not made up my mind. Not entirely."

"You have, your Grace, or else you would not be telling me this." And suddenly, as if someone had turned a light on in a darkened room, Powl knew. "It's Rown, isn't it? That is why you have let him supplant me as the queen's confessor."

Northam said nothing.

"But why?" Powl insisted. "Why did Usharna stop you from nominating me?"

"She never properly explained," Northam said, and Powl saw he was telling the truth.

"She did not like you. She did not trust you. She never said why."

Powl slumped in his chair, and Northam hated to see it. "You have great honor in the church," he said consolingly. "And you are a member of the queen's council. I will see to it that you do not lose the seat. The church needs hard working, dedicated, and intelligent men like you to help guide its way in the world. I hope you will believe me when I say that I wish it could be you who succeeds me. It had been my fervent wish. I want you to continue as my secretary, and... and I would like to resume our friendship."

Powl made no answer; he did not even look at the primate.

"If you think that might be possible," Northam added sadly.

Areava made time for Olio after her time with Hansen Beresard. He had specifically asked to be alone with her, the only one in the kingdom other than her husband who had the right to ask it, and she had granted it. He walked up and down her chamber nervously, wringing his hands.

"There is something wrong," Areava said.

Olio looked at her. "There is?"

She shrugged. "Why else are you pacing like a great bear with a burr up its behind?"

He shook his head. "No. There's nothing wrong." He stopped. "Actually, that's not true.

There is something wrong. I'm to be general of the army you're sending north in the spring."

Areava blinked in surprise. "What's wrong with that? You're a Rosetheme. I cannot go.

Someone must lead it."

"I'm not the b-b-best choice."

"Are you afraid?"

"Of course I'm afraid," he said, not even offended by the question. "But that isn't why I don't want to be your general."

"I don't understand."

"I'm not the m-m-most qualified, Areava. I am not a soldier. I am at m-m-mostadequate with a b-b-blade. I haven't an angry b-b-bone in my b-b-body. You don't want someone like m-m-me to lead the attack against Salokan."

"Then who do I want?"

Olio looked at her squarely. "You want someone like Sendarus."

"No," she said curtly.

"B-b-but Areava, look at the differences between us-"

"No."

Olio sighed and started pacing again.

"That is why you asked to see me?" she asked him.

"Yes. I don't think it's a good idea for m-m-me to lead the army. I think it does your cause m-m-more harm than good."

"The council doesn't think so."

"The council wouldn't know," Olio countered. "How m-m-many of them were on our m-m-mother's council during the Slaver War?"

"Umm, Orkid and the primate."

"Exactly. Only two, and neither of them soldiers. M-m-most of them know less about war and strategy than m-m-my tailor. Who was it who actually suggested I be general?"

Areava had to think about that. "Father Powl," she said at last.

"Your confessor?"

Areava nodded.

"You m-m-made your decision b-b-based on the advice of your confessor?"

"His advice seemed sound to everyone there."

"They did not want to put you in any danger."

"That only left you," she said reasonably.

"Not any m-m-more. There is now Sendarus."

Areava opened her mouth to say no again, but closed it before she could say the word.

She realized Olio was right. Sendarus was the best man to lead the army, not her brother.

"Sendarus would not understand-" she began.

"Of course he would," Olio interrupted her. "He would leap at the chance to demonstrate his loyalty to the kingdom. M-m-more importantly, he would leap at the chance to p-p-perform some b-b-brave service for you."

"And you would not?"

Olio snorted. "I would die for you, if necessary. Not as willingly as your b-b-beloved, I grant, b-b-but I would rather that than see you harmed."

Areava smiled at her brother's words; she knew they were true. If she took the generalship from his shoulders and gave it to Sendarus, some would suggest it was because Olio was a coward, but the two of them would know better.

"Your idea has merit," she said.

Olio stopped in front of her. "Then you'll do it?"

"I didn't say that. But I will think about it."Olio's shoulders drooped in relief. "It would b-b-be b-b-best."

"It is a great risk. What if the army should lose? They would blame my husband."

"Under Sendarus the army will not lose; he is no fool. Under m-m-me, it could, and then the p-p-people would b-b-blame you."

Father Powl wondered about the name of God. He wondered how many letters it had, and whether or not it had more than one syllable, and if it had more than one syllable where the stress was placed. He wondered most of all whether or not Primate Northam had written it down somewhere, had written down that most sacred word in case he forgot it. Or in case he died before his time.

Knowing what was to come, Powl was unable to sleep. His apprehension grew and grew until it was almost intolerable; when at last the flood came, it started with the hurried footsteps of Northam's attendant, a novitiate of some promise but little initiative.

Although Powl knew where the attendant would go first, when the door rattled with the knocking, he flinched in surprise. Powl answered it, dressed only in a nightshirt, rubbing pretend sleep from his eyes.

"Brother Anticus. What time is it?"

"Early, Father." The novitiate looked at Powl with wild eyes.

"Brother, what is wrong?"

"It is Primate Northam."

Powl frowned. "Something is wrong with his grace?"

Anticus grabbed for Powl's hand, but Powl moved it out of the way. "Brother, please tell me what's wrong."

"You have to come see, Father. You have to come see." Powl let Anticus take his hand this time, and let himself be led barefoot along the cold stone passageway to Northam's chambers.

Northam was lying in his bed, his eyes staring straight up, wide open and slightly extruded, as if he had received a sudden vision of God. Powl went to the body and placed a finger just under the neck. There was no pulse. The flesh was quite cool, but not yet cold.

"Brother Anticus, I want you to get Father Rown. Tell no one else what you have seen, but get Father Rown now."

Brother Anticus scurried off, his breath already coming in jerking sobs. While he waited, Powl made the primate decent-pulling his nightshirt straight, closing his eyelids, placing his hands across his chest. He did not know how much time he had, so he did only a cursory search of the room. When he heard two sets of approaching footsteps, he straightened and bowed his head in prayer.

"Oh, God, no," said Father Rown's voice behind him.

"Come in," Powl said, waving for the priest and Anticus to enter the room. "Close the door behind you," he ordered, and Anticus did.

Father Rown also felt for a pulse. When he felt none he turned, aghast, to Powl. "Do you ... do you ..."

"Do I what, Father?" Powl asked, holding his breath.

"Do you know who ..." Powl frowned at him. "... I mean, do you know what the wordis?"

"The word?"

"Did Primate Northam pass on to you the-"

"Ah, the name of God," Powl finished for him, and started breathing again.

"Yes, yes," Rown said, his face taut with tension.

"Of course he did," Powl said. "Did you think Northam would forget that?"

Rown sighed with relief. His round face seemed to fall into its normal shape, and his generous figure, released from tension, visibly relaxed.

"You must wake our brethren," Powl told Anticus. "Do not give them the news. Tell them to gather in the royal chapel."

Anticus opened the door and hurried out.

"You will give them the news?" Rown asked.

"No, Father, you will."

"Me? Why me?"

"Because as Primate Northam's successor my first duty is to inform the queen and her chancellor. I will do that now.

And it is also my duty to select a new secretary to replace me. I select you. Father Rown. Now go and do your duty."

Father Rown bowed in thanks, and in recognition of Powl's ascension into higher office.

When he looked up again, he wore half a smile. "I will do my duty."

"I know it. Now I must do mine."

"You have been talking with my brother."

Orkid looked up from his desk to see the queen standing in the doorway to his office.

She was looking particularly imperious and stern. He stood up so quickly he scattered piles of paper on to the floor.

"Your Majesty! I was not expecting you-"

"Was it yesterday, Chancellor? Or the day before."

Orkid was trying to pick up papers and figure out exactly what the queen was getting at. Two secretaries were on hands and knees picking up papers as well, handing them in fistfuls to the chancellor.

"I wonder how you approached the subject? Perhaps something about how cold Hume was at this time of year?"

And Orkid understood. He stood erect, his secretaries still scrambling around his feet.

"You are angry with me."

"Of course I'm angry with you," she said without any ire at all. "This is something you should first have raised with me."

"You would have said no."