Let's leave 'sin' out of it for the moment. You believe we will win the war?"

"Yes, and moreover I believe that once that happens we will see the queen's council split into two factions, one that supports her Majesty and one that supports the Twenty Houses and certain moneyed interests who would benefit from a weakened monarchy, especially if Haxus is taken and there are new lands and new opportunities to exploit."

"It is the tradition of my house to support the monarch in all she-or indeed, he-does."

"A tradition you intend to continue."

"Without doubt."

"I am glad to hear it, for you see there is a way to ensure the balance on the council is restored."

"How is that?"

"With Northam gone, you inherit his seat."

"Ah, I see," Powl said. "Which means my seat becomes vacant, to be filled by the queen's new confessor."

"Exactly," Orkid said. "And you choose the queen's confessor."

Powl stopped. "Yes, that's true, isn't it?" He looked strangely at Orkid. "Lucky for our side."

Olio and Edaytor entered the hospice through the back door. The priest welcomedthem and led them into the kitchen, bowing and scraping the whole way.

"You're new to this, aren't you?" Olio asked.

The priest gave a sickly smile. "Your Highness sees my deficiencies with an eagle eye."

"You m-m-misunderstand m-m-me, Father. I m-m-merely m-m-meant that we are in the habit of treating these visits of m-m-mine with some informality. Indeed, I would p-p-prefer it if you could avoid calling me by my title."

"Without your title, your Highness?" the priest said uncertainly.

Olio patted him on the shoulder. "It will take some p-p-practice, I can see."

"I was given a message today that you had a dying child for the prince," Edaytor said with some impatience. He did not like the fact that the regular priest had been changed suddenly by the new primate. He and Olio really did have to meet with Powl and sort some things out.

"A child, Prelate?" The priest seemed confused. "No. I have a man in his sixties. He has a bad heart..."

"We are wasting our time here, your Highness," Edaytor said abruptly, then said to the priest, "his Highness only deals with those who are dying before their time, from illness or accident."

The priest seemed horrified. "But the patient is a good man with many small children-"

"Nevertheless," Edaytor interrupted, "it was not part of the original agreement..." He let the sentence die. He had already said too much to someone who had not been involved in the original establishment.

"P-p-perhaps this one time, Edaytor?" Olio said. He hated the thought of letting a man die who had small children.

"Your Highness, you cannot cure every ill afflicting Kendra," Edaytor said somewhat impatiently. "We have discussed this before. If you truly wish to help your people, you have to use your power sparingly and only where it will do the most good. We must go, and we must go now."

The priest was confused, and became even more confused when the prince and the prelate left without seeing his dying patient. When they were gone, he hurried back to the kitchen and wrote down everything that had been said between the three of them. He took some time over it, trying to remember every single word and nuance. In this regard, Primate Powl's instructions had been explicit.

It was late at night and Dejanus was about to leave his office to go to his own rooms when one of the guards knocked and opened the door, letting in a small, rat-faced man who seemed uncomfortable in the presence of so many people with so many weapons.

"He says he has some information for you," the guard said, his voice doubtful.

Dejanus nodded and the guard left. "Hrelth." He said the name like a swear word, and came to stand over the man. "How pleasant to see you again."

Hrelth bowed. "Your Magnificence, you asked me to come if I had any news about Prin-"

Dejanus's hand shot up to cover Hrelth's mouth. "And I also asked you to never come to me in the palace, remember?" he hissed. "Only talk to me at the tavern!"Hrelth shook his head; Dejanus resisted the temptation to twist it off his shoulders. He let the man go and went to the door. He opened it quickly, and did not like the way the guard was so determinedly at attention. "Find some wine," Dejanus snapped. "Couldn't you see my guest was thirsty?"

"Sir!" the guard shouted and ran off on his errand.

Dejanus closed the door behind him and turned back to Hrelth. "All right, quickly.

What news of the prince?"

"He and Edaytor Fanhow went to the hospice you asked me to watch. They went in the back door, stayed for only a few minutes, and then left again. The prelate escorted Prince Olio all the way back to the palace and then left for his own home."

"And they were at the hospice for only few minutes? Are you sure?"

Hrelth nodded vigorously. "And there's something else."

"Something else?"

"I was heading back when I saw the priest from the hospice running to the palace as well. This was about ten minutes after the prince had returned."

"He probably lives in the west wing," Dejanus said reasonably.

Hrelth shrugged. "Maybe. That is certainly where he went, but less than ten minutes later he was rushing back to the hospice again."

"Really?" Dejanus mused.

Hrelth nodded again. "I'm sorry for coming to the palace, your Constableness, but I thought you would want to know..."

"Yes, yes. You were right."

The door opened and the guard came in with a flagon of wine and two mugs. Dejanus looked askance at the mugs- he was used to better now that he was constable-but at least they were clean. The guard left to take up his post again.

"So, you think the harbor patrols are doing a good job?" Dejanus asked.

Hrelth looked quizzically at him for a moment, then understanding dawned in his eyes.

Dejanus wanted to kill him again.

"Yes, that's right. Very good. Good patrollers on the harbor."

Dejanus poured him a mug of wine and handed it over. Hrelth drank most of it in one gulp, then whispered, "Err, we have not yet discussed my retainer, sir."

"You just drank a mug of vintage Storian wine. How much do you think that's worth?"

"It was very nice, sir," Hrelth admitted, "but it doesn't feed my children."

"You don't have any children."

Hrelth thought about that for a moment. "Err, that's true."

Dejanus opened his coin pouch and threw the rat two pennies. "Enough to feed you for a week, at least, or keep you drunk for two days."

Hrelth did a little bow and scampered off.

Dejanus poured himself a wine and sat behind his desk again.

So two of us at least are collecting information about Prince Olio, he thought. And what is the new primate's interest in all of this?Dejanus had no answer to that question, but it did not worry him overly. The primate was a new broom and probably just wanted to make sure of things before sweeping everything clean. Still, it would not hurt to keep an eye on Powl. Maybe, just maybe, he could prove useful as an ally, and then there would be two of them on the council secretly opposed to Chancellor Orkid Gravespear. Now that was worth thinking about.

Chapter 25.

If Salokan had known beforehand that Daavis was going to be such a tough nut to crack, he might have reconsidered his strategy. His generals continually assured him that the city's fall was imminent, but as far as he could see the only thing that was imminent was another failed and bloody assault. He was tired of seeing long streams of Haxan wounded making their way to the hospital corner of the camp while the walls of Daavis stood there scorched and battered but still standing. He had no idea what casualties Charion's forces were suffering, but he was damn sure it was considerably less than those she was inflicting on him. "When I take the city," Salokan said aloud, "I am going to hang Queen Charion from the main gate. I will hang her by her feet. Alive. And naked."

Some nearby officers chuckled appreciatively, secretly relieved he was not yet talking about hanging them upside down and naked from the walls of Daavis. If the city did not fall soon, they knew they could expect little in the way of kindness from their king. The problem was no one had expected Charion to be so effective in rallying the defense of her capital.

Salokan studied his officers, accurately reading their minds. I need an advantage, he thought. I need something Charion does not have. He sighed heavily. And, of course, that something was Lynan Rosetheme. Then he could parade the exiled prince up and down the country raising the province against its own diminutive queen now bottled up in Daavis. Symbols were important, he knew, just as he knew his army's continued lack of success against the city was also a symbol: a symbol of his failing invasion of Grenda Lear.

It was not supposed to turn out like this, he told himself. By now he was supposed to be inside Daavis preparing for the inevitable counterattack, with Lynan in one pocket and Charion in the other.

There was a cry from behind him, and he looked around to see some soldiers pointing to a flock of pigeons coming from the west and heading northeast.

"That's strange, isn't it?" he asked allowed but of no one in particular. "There are no pigeons on the Oceans of Grass, are there?"

"No, your Majesty," said an aide, then cleared his throat. "They could be ours."

Salokan looked at him, startled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean they could be the pigeons we sent with Thewor for Rendle's expedition."

"They couldn't all be carrying a message, could they?" someone asked.

"I think they are all bearing the same message," Salokan said bleakly.

Farben shook his head as if to clear his ears. "I'm sorry, your Highness, but I'm not sure I understood you correctly.""You understood me, Farben. Don't lie."

"But we don't have enough soldiers."

"See, I knew you understood me. We do have enough soldiers."

"But we are safe inside the city walls," Farben argued, knowing even as he did so that he was arguing for a lost cause. "Salokan's forces are bleeding to death out there. Why risk such a venture?"

"Because anything we can do to demoralize the enemy increases the chances of them breaking off the siege."

"But Areava's army will be here soon! They can do the fighting! Our soldiers are weary, most are injured in one way or another ..."

"Our soldiers would jump at the chance of striking back at the enemy," Charion declared. "You do not know them as I do."

"Undoubtedly, your Highness. Is there nothing I can do to dissuade you from this course of action?"

Charion shook her head. "And tell them that I will lead them personally."

Salokan himself organized the next assault. He planned for the catapults to concentrate their bombardment on the northeast wall, near the camp. The enemy would assume either that wall or its opposite, the southwest wall, would be attacked in force. Two regiments of foot would take scaling ladders and assault the southwest wall to reinforce that impression. Then the main attack, consisting of five regiments of foot, would attack the north wall, with no warning. With luck, they would reach the parapets and clear the walkway to the southwest wall allowing the decoy regiments to join them. With seven regiments in the city, they should be able to open the main gates to let in the rest of Salokan's force, including his cavalry.

At first it went well. The catapults hurled their stones accurately from the second shot, and a short while later, for the very first time, a part of the wall was seen to crack from parapet to base. Salokan then gave the order for the attack on the southwest wall to start, and that, too, went better than expected. Several ladders managed to stay against the wall long enough for some of the infantry to actually reach the parapets. When Salokan determined Charion would have committed her reserves to the southwest, he ordered the general attack on the north wall. It was then that things started to go wrong.

There were far more defenders atop the north wall than he thought would be possible, unless Charion had double-guessed him. He refused to believe that; too many of his troops already believed she was preternaturally lucky. Scaling ladders were pushed off as soon as they were put up. A hail of arrows and rubble pierced and pelted his troops. Just as he was about to call back his forces to reform and attack again, he heard the great main gate start to creak. His heart leaped with joy! He was certain it could only mean the two regiments attacking the southwest wall had made it over despite the odds against them and were now opening the city to Salokan. He hurriedly shouted new orders and his generals scurried to obey them. The five infantry regiments dropped their ladders and lined up on the causeway in front of the gate while his cavalry eagerly readied their columns behind the infantry.

But instead of his forces being greeted by two friendly regiments inside the walls, they were met by a cavalry charge. Salokan watched in horror as his waiting foot regiments were cut down like wheat before a scythe. His army panicked and started to spill off the causeway, and still the Hume cavalry came on, hewing left and right. What was worse,leading the enemy attack was Charion herself, shining in polished mail, her saber whirling, glittering in the air, seeming twice her size in combat.

Salokan screamed for his own cavalry to engage the enemy, but his infantry was in the way. Between the charging horses in front and the pressing mass behind, a large portion of the foot regiments could not move at all and the soldiers were simply stabbed or slashed or suffocated where they were, the dead left standing because there was no room for them to fall down. And then, just as suddenly as it had come, the attack ended and the enemy retreated, the gates closing behind them before the Haxus cavalry could get through their own infantry to reach them. Salokan sat on his horse in shock, staring at the heap of Haxus dead on the causeway, almost overwhelmed by the cries and groans of the wounded and dying.

It was a small river town, made up of little more than a single street ending in a wharf and with houses on either side. There was a small inn, a ramp near the dock, a stable. A few townspeople were engaged in their business despite the early hour. One stall was open, selling freshly-baked bread. And there were soldiers.

"Infantry?" Magmed asked.

"I think so," Galen agreed. He pointed to the stable. "It doesn't look large enough to hold more than a dozen horses, and I see no camp nearby."

"How many enemy?" he asked eagerly, anticipating a battle, and pleased to be away from the upstart Sendarus. Galen Amptra might not yet own his father's title, but he was at least a member of the Twenty Houses.

Galen shrugged. "Hard to tell. If what we see now are just the sentries, then they have fifty down there at least."

"Just a garrison."

Galen was not so sure. From their position behind a fringe of trees on a nearby hill he could see no other sign of the enemy, but it worried him that there was no cavalry nearby. It made little sense to garrison a town with just infantry, who could be cut off and isolated by any enemy force with even the smallest mounted arm.

"I think we should explore a little more," Galen said.

"We could take the town in a single charge," Magmed said. "Give the signal and ..."

"And we could find ourselves engaged in a large-scale battle without hope of reinforcements."

Magmed waved his hand dismissively. "What of it? The sooner we beat off this Salokan, the sooner the war will be over."

"We are under instruction," Galen said. "Our orders are clear."

"From that Amanite upstart," Magmed said, his disgust obvious.

"From our queen's consort," Galen told him sternly, "and from the holder of the Key of the Sword. Would you go against him?"