"Oh dear."

"None of these?"

"Well, perhaps this one, the russet velvet. But it is considered a discourtesy to his grace to appear in his presence plainly dressed. One must look as if one has spent the greatest time and trouble to look one's best. But as long as you wear your jewels with it . . ."

"Jewels?" Elysia stared at Eupraxia. What would they think of her? She had no jewels; she had sold the sapphires Volkh had given her on their wedding day to pay for their passage back to Vermeille. All she had kept was a single ruby, Volkh's first gift to her, dark as blood. She had not worn it in over fifteen years but somehow had found herself unable to part with it, even when times were hard. Now she took it out and strung it around her neck. Against her creamy skin it looked like a crimson teardrop.

The marble floor was so highly polished that Elysia could see her reflection in it. Gold-swagged mirrors and varnished maps painted in rich colors adorned the paneled walls, and at the center of the room stood a wide desk fashioned out of walnut, each leg carved as a gilded sea-eagle.

A white-haired man sat writing at the desk; he was in plain court dress with a blue ribbon bearing an order of gold about his neck. He looked up as she entered, frowning a little.

"Drakhys," he said, rising.

Elysia winced. "I do not choose to be called by that name," she said coldly.

"Madame Andar, then." Although his cropped hair and neatly trimmed beard were white, the gray eyes observing her gleamed with a keen, youthful intelligence. She felt uncomfortably as if she were being assessed. "Let me welcome you on behalf of His Imperial Grace the Grand Duke to the Winter Palace."

"I was told I was to be granted an audience with his imperial grace."

"And indeed, Madame Andar, you are, you are. Let me introduce myself: Vassian, First Minister of Muscobar."

Flustered, Elysia dropped into a curtsy, one hand to her breast.

"I beg your pardon, your excellency, I misunderstood."

He gestured with one hand for her to rise.

"My dear madame, you have been through a difficult time. I am here to listen to your tale and to discuss in what ways we might be able to help you. But first . . ." With another curt gesture he signed to the hovering servants to leave the antechamber. "Now we are alone. You can say what you will without fear of being overheard. Please be seated."

Elysia sat down on the gilt-framed chair on the other side of the ornate marquetry desk.

Vassian listened to her account without comment, his hands folded on the desktop.

"And when I went into his room next morning, he was . . . gone."

"And you believe your late husband's bodyguard have kidnapped Gavril?"

Elysia nodded. She could feel tears pricking at the back of her eyes, yet her pride would not allow her to weep in front of Vassian. She sensed he would take it as a sign of weakness.

"There is another, darker possibility for which you must steel yourself, madame. Your husband made many enemies within his own country-and without as well. Someone might have taken this opportunity to rid Azhkendir of the Nagarians for good."

Elysia took in a breath to try to steady her voice. "I am all too aware of that possibility. That was one of the reasons I took Gavril away from Azhkendir."

"And all youthful japes and misdemeanors have been discounted? There is no woman involved?"

"None, I assure you," Elysia said, rather more sharply than she had intended, and saw the ghost of a fleeting smile pass over the First Minister's impassive face. "I'm not saying Gavril has been a saint, your excellency. But all his usual haunts have been checked and double-checked. None of his friends or drinking companions have seen him."

Vassian leaned forward across the desk.

"Let's assume he has been taken to Azhkendir. Had you considered the possibility that-knowing all too well your feelings toward your late husband-your son is afraid of telling you he wishes to be made Drakhaon?"

"Gavril left all his paints and sketchbooks behind. He never goes anywhere without them," Elysia insisted.

"Are you aware that Lord Volkh came here to Mirom about eighteen months ago to discuss a treaty of mutual benefit to our countries?"

"I told you, your excellency, we did not communicate."

"It was a little diplomatic coup for which I take full credit." Vassian examined his nails as he spoke. "The Treaty of Accord. For years we had been trying to establish relations with Azhkendir, remote and inaccessible as it is. In the light of our present"-he hesitated as though searching for the right word-"difficulties with Eugene of Tielen, I can assure you we are still most interested in maintaining good relations with Azhkendir."

"I don't see how this helps my son," Elysia burst out.

"You may recall, madame, that the southern mountains of Azhkendir form a natural barrier between our two countries. Look."

He smoothed out a map on the desk, pointing out the long southern range of mountains that separated Azhkendir from Muscobar.

"The White Sea to the east of Azhkendir is already filled with ice. And now we hear that the Saltyk Sea on the western shores has frozen over too."

"You're saying that he is a prisoner?"

"A prisoner of the elements, madame. The Grand Duke has much influence in this hemisphere-but even he, I fear, cannot command the snows to thaw or the ice to melt."

Elysia stared at the crude, jagged lines of the mountain peaks. The cartographer had evidently not been able to gather enough information about Azhkendir to map the contours accurately.

"So what am I to do?"

"Azhkendir is, as I said, of great significance to us," Vassian continued, rolling up the map. "Our relations with Eugene of Tielen of late have not been as cordial as we would wish. He has amassed a vast fleet in the Straits. Azhkendir is all that stands between Eugene's armies and Muscobar. We can only hope that this forthcoming wedding proposal will serve to-"

There came a discreet tap at the door.

"Yes," rasped Vassian.

"His excellency, Count Velemir," announced a liveried servant.

Elysia turned around in her seat to see the newcomer. The count was wearing a fur-trimmed coat of black velvet cut like a military greatcoat. He walked with the aid of a gold-topped ebony cane, yet Elysia saw with a portrait painter's astute eye that he was only in early middle years. He was clean-shaven, with his brown hair combed severely back, military fashion, from a weather-tanned face. He smiled as Vassian introduced them, kissing her hand, and she noticed that his eyes were a warm tortoiseshell brown.

"You have news for Madame Andar, Velemir?" Vassian said.

"Indeed I have." Velemir sat on another of the gilt chairs opposite Elysia. "News that will serve to reassure her, I trust."

"News of Gavril?" Elysia was all attention now.

"Your son is, as you guessed, in Azhkendir. He disembarked at Arkhelskoye, where he was welcomed by the townspeople. He then set out for Kastel Drakhaon, where your late husband's will was due to be read."

"But how can you be sure?" Elysia cried, not certain whether she felt relief or dismay that her fears had been confirmed.

"It is my business to know these things," the count said calmly. "I am on my way now to relay the information to the Grand Duke. If you would care to accompany me, Madame Andar, I will present you to his grace." He rose and offered her his arm; after a moment's hesitation, Elysia rose too, placing her hand on his arm.

"We will talk again soon, madame," Vassian said, picking up his pen. It seemed as if he had already turned his mind to other matters.

"So you have recently returned from Azhkendir, count?" Elysia asked boldly.

"Indeed no, madame, but I have been on official business to Tielen." He stopped. They had reached a long, mirror-lined gallery whose tall windows looked out onto a formal garden where fountains spouted among clipped hedges of box and yew. "I must congratulate you, Madame Andar."

"Congratulate me?" Elysia looked into the weather-browned face but saw only the count's charming smile.

"You had us quite baffled. News from Azhkendir travels slowly at best, and much is garbled when it reaches us. Some rumors said that you were dead. We had no idea you and your son had been living in Vermeille for so many years."

"Even when I accepted the commission to paint Altessa Astasia?"

He laughed softly, patting her hand. His laugh was smooth and dark like strong, sweet coffee. "Ah, then, then we began to make connections. Shall we take a turn about the Rusalki Garden?"

The Rusalki Garden was filled with the sound of splashing waters; formal beds of topiaried box and yew surrounded a great fountain. As they walked along the alleyways Elysia saw a fine mist shimmering in the cold, dull air above the fountain from which carved river-nymphs arose, water spouting from their cupped hands, making green copper streaks on their bare marble breasts.

"Tell me about your son, Gavril. Will he make a good Drakhaon?"

Elysia stopped, swinging around to face the count.

"Can there be such a thing as a good Drakhaon, count?"

"We know so little about the House of Nagarian," the count said with a shrug. "We understood that Lord Volkh had developed powerful weapons to defend his lands . . . yet when he and his entourage arrived in Mirom, his bodyguard was only armed with axes and sabers!"

Elysia glanced at the count, wondering why he was pursuing this line of conversation. What did he aim to learn from her?

"Count Velemir," she said, looking him directly in the eyes, "I left Azhkendir just before my husband destroyed the Arkhels. He revealed nothing of his military secrets to me."

"But young Gavril-he has had no military training, has he?"

"My husband wanted him to attend the academy in Mirom, but I refused to let him go."

"You think for yourself, madame," the count said. "A quality I much admire in a woman."

Elysia-to her chagrin-found that she was blushing. What business had she, blushing at an idle compliment like a schoolgirl?

They stopped beside the central fountain, the splashing waters almost obscuring his voice.

"Elysia," he said suddenly, catching hold of her hands. "We may talk freely here; no one can overhear us. I have some information for you. Your husband came to Mirom for a secret purpose. We are still not entirely sure what that purpose was, only that a doctor of science from the University of Mirom accompanied him back to Azhkendir."

"A doctor of science?"

"One Altan Kazimir. Now I have it on good authority that the doctor has recently arrived back in Mirom. I can only suppose that his employment came to an end when Lord Volkh was murdered."

A lead at last! Elysia was so excited that she began to babble questions.

"Has this Doctor Kazimir resumed his work at the university? Can I go find him there?"

"My dear lady, I beg you to proceed with a little caution. Altan Kazimir has so far resisted all attempts to reinstate him. In fact, it seems as if his experiences in Azhkendir may have disturbed his reason. He refuses to talk to his old colleagues and keeps himself barricaded in his apartment. However, another fugitive from Azhkendir may fare better. . . ."

"You think he might listen to me?"

"If you can convince him that you understand what he has been through . . ." He pressed her hands warmly between his own. "But take care, Elysia. He is in a volatile, unpredictable state."

"Volatile or no, I must speak with him," Elysia said.

"If you are determined to take the risk, I can provide a plainclothes escort. But remember, he will not even listen to you if he thinks you are not alone. He trusts no one!"

"I think I know how to be discreet, count."

"Still so formal!" he said teasingly.

"So, when can I go?"

"And so eager!"

"Gavril is my only child." To her annoyance tears had begun to blur her eyes again. And she had wanted to show Velemir how strong she was.

"Here in Mirom one never puts one's own desires before the imperatives of duty," he said sternly. "In simpler terms: you must be presented to the Grand Duke."

"Oh!" Elysia's hand flew to her mouth. Another gaffe in court etiquette. "I didn't mean-"

"Of course you did not," Velemir said smoothly, "and you must think me a boor. There is a pattern to court life not unlike that of a formal dance; once you have learned the steps it all becomes intelligible."

"Then please, dear count, teach me the steps."

"That is a singularly fine ruby you are wearing."

Elysia's fingers flew to her throat, instinctively covering the jewel. "A gift from my late husband."

"You will forgive me, but . . ."

"I feared as much. It's too unsubtle." Elysia let out a sigh of vexation. He must think her so provincial. "I only brought it in the hope I could sell it to raise money for Gavril. Then Eupraxia insisted I should wear jewelry for the audience, and this is all I have."

"I hope you don't think it presumptuous of me, but I know the court jeweler Maximov very well. He could be persuaded to transform this rather . . . rough-cut stone into something in gold and tiny rubies, perhaps with earrings to match? The Grand Duchess favors a six-petal rose design this year."

"You're very kind, count, but-"

A little clock on a nearby tower struck the hour in a pretty tinkle of chimes. Church and monastery bells echoed without in a darker resonant clamor.

"Come with me; it's time for today's audience."

As they approached the audience chamber, Elysia heard a great murmur of voices and the sound of a string quartet. Servants flung open double doors of white and gilt, announcing loudly above the music, "The Drakhys of Azhkendir with his excellency, Count Velemir."

The murmur of voices stilled as everyone turned to stare. Elysia quite forgot her anger at being announced as Drakhys as Count Velemir led her into the chamber. Everyone was staring at her in her simple velvet gown; staring and-she was certain-whispering behind gloved hands and fans. Even the vast portraits of Orlovs dead and gone seemed to glare disapprovingly at her from the brocade-hung walls.

The audience chamber glittered with gold; from the painted ceilings to the plaster moldings, every surface looked as if it had been inlaid with gilt. And the Duke's courtiers glittered too; Elysia was dazzled by the sparkle of jewels. Every woman present seemed to be wearing diamond chokers and tiaras, sapphire earrings, and emerald rings. She felt as if she were a sparrow sneaking into an aviary of bright-plumaged exotic birds.