"Lord Gavril, that cursed contraption of Lilias'. It keeps asking for you. Over and over again. Something about Doctor Kazimir-" She gave a little yelp of surprise. "Oh! He's here."

Gavril swung down from the saddle and flung his reins to Ivar. "Jushko, bring the doctor."

As they entered Lilias' rooms, Gavril saw Kazimir give an involuntary shiver as he entered, glancing uneasily about him, almost as if he expected her still to be there.

"Lord Drakhaon." The faint voice swelled out of the low, intermittent hum. The faint voice swelled out of the low, intermittent hum.

"I'm here. Who is this, and what do you want?" Gavril said brusquely.

"Is Doctor Kazimir with you?"

"He is."

"Let him speak for himself."

"You promised me I could speak with my mother." Gavril was in no mood to bandy words. "I want proof she is alive."

"Not until Kazimir has identified himself."

Gavril glanced at the doctor. "Speak to them. And be quick."

Jushko pushed Kazimir forward.

"I-I am Altan Kazimir. All is in order."

There was no reply. Gavril saw Kazimir nervously wipe his hand across his glistening brow.

"Very well," came the reply at last. came the reply at last.

"Gavril." It was a woman's voice, speaking the Smarnan tongue. It was a woman's voice, speaking the Smarnan tongue. "Gavril, is it you?" "Gavril, is it you?"

Gavril's heart had begun to race at the sound of the distant voice. "Mother?" he said hesitantly.

"Gavril-I'm so, so sorry." It It was was her, he knew it, in spite of the crackling and distortion. her, he knew it, in spite of the crackling and distortion.

"Are they treating you well?"

"Believe me, dear Gavril-" Elysia's words were breaking up. Elysia's words were breaking up. "I never intended this to-" "I never intended this to-"

"Are you all right, Mother?" Gavril cried, clutching the glass case. "Tell me you're all right!"

There was no reply.

"Mother!" he shouted into the glittering crystal.

"If you wish to see your mother alive, my lord, you will submit to Doctor Kazimir's treatment." The man's voice, infuriatingly calm, came through again. The man's voice, infuriatingly calm, came through again. "He will inform us by this device when it has taken effect. Then-and only then-will we enter into any negotiations as to the precise conditions relating to the release of your mother." "He will inform us by this device when it has taken effect. Then-and only then-will we enter into any negotiations as to the precise conditions relating to the release of your mother."

"I want assurances that she is well," Gavril said, his voice rough with despair. "I want to speak with her again."

There was a pause.

"Stand by for further instructions."

The voice ceased abruptly, and the low hum died away.

Suppose he lost all control of himself and attacked the main Tielen army? Gavril clenched his fists, willing the thought away. Nails, sharp as chips of lapis, dug into his palms. By the time he had come back to his senses, Elysia would be dead. The thought chilled him to the depths of his soul.

"My lord?"

"Don't know-how long I can control-myself-" Slowly he felt the darkness recede. With a grimace of pain, he unclenched his fists and saw the deep lacerations he had inflicted, saw the blood well up, smearing his palms with its unnatural hue of purple-blue.

There was only one way to make sure it never happened.

"Doctor, I want you to set up your apparatus in the Kalika Tower. If you need anything, fresh water, fire, my servants will supply you. Jushko, see to it."

Jushko hesitated, then relented.

"As you command, Lord Drakhaon."

"We'll review our plans in the morning. Meet me at dawn, in Kostya's room."

Gavril dreams: He is standing on the roof of the Kalika Tower.

Dark mist drifts behind him, rolling in over the mountains, soft, silent, stifling, until the land beneath is obscured. There are particles of darkness in the mist, glittering like powdered crystal as they fall on Gavril's upturned face.

Dust of dead stars . . .

Suddenly the sky is filled with wings.

Sparkling, spangled wings, luminescent, veins pulsing with jeweled fire, daemon-creatures dart and dive about him, fanning his face with their searing breath.

He opens his mouth to cry out in wonder-but the rush of air, the beat of the great wings muffles his voice and he is rising, rising into the sky- He is flying.

Now the kastel is so far below it seems no more than an insignificant pebble on a barren shore. He circles above his home, the wind keen as ice on his skin. The others are turning, wheeling away toward the distant horizon, already far, so far away.

"Wait-wait for me-"

He wants to go with them. But some force is pulling him back down toward the kastel below, sucking him back into a whirling vortex of dark mist . . .

He woke to a gray dawn-and an ache of emptiness that he could not understand-that he had been left behind. Marooned.

Abandoned.

"You promised me news of Lilias, Lord Drakhaon."

Gavril saw Jaromir standing over his bed, watching him.

"How did you-" Gavril's mind still whirled with the rush of air, the throbbing heartbeat of wings.

Jaromir gestured briefly toward the tapestry that concealed the door to the deserted East Wing. "I thought it better your druzhina druzhina didn't see me. After all, they still believe you killed me up on the mountain," he added with a wry, twisted smile. didn't see me. After all, they still believe you killed me up on the mountain," he added with a wry, twisted smile.

Jaromir Arkhel. Gavril gazed at the man Eugene of Tielen had elected to depose him, trying to quell the simmering bitterness in his heart. Gavril gazed at the man Eugene of Tielen had elected to depose him, trying to quell the simmering bitterness in his heart.

"What time is it?" He had fallen asleep in his traveling clothes. Servants must have come in to light the fire, but no one had woken him.

"About seven in the morning."

"Seven already?" Gavril went over to the washbasin and poured in water, plunging his face into the bowl, coming up dripping, gasping at the icy shock of the cold. He had to test Jaromir. "Jaromir, Azhkendir is under attack." He made a play of fumbling for a towel, closely watching Jaromir's reactions. "Eugene of Tielen has launched an invasion across the ice."

"Eugene?"

A look of anguished concern passed across Jaromir's face.

"No, no," Gavril heard Jaromir mutter, almost to himself, "surely he wouldn't venture so much just for my sake, surely not . . ."

"For your sake?"

If Jaromir was play-acting, then he was extraordinarily gifted.

"Eugene has been my mentor, my protector, my friend, ever since Yephimy smuggled me out of Azhkendir. I have spent the last years in Tielen at his court. I-I owe him everything."

"And yet this man is holding my mother hostage." Gavril was unable to hide the rawness of betrayal in his voice. "My mother, Jaromir."

Jaromir looked blankly at him.

"Lilias has some kind of voice transference device in her rooms."

"One of Linnaius' inventions? The Vox Aethyria?"

Gavril shrugged. "All I know is that a disembodied voice has been telling me that my mother is Eugene's prisoner and will be executed unless I do exactly as I am instructed."

"And the instructions?"

"Read this." Gavril thrust Eugene's letter into Jaromir's hand. "I am ordered to submit myself to the disabling effects of Doctor Kazimir's elixir. And hand over the governing of Azhkendir to you."

Jaromir looked up from the paper, his eyes clouded.

"That was Eugene's original intention, yes, for me to replace Volkh. But that was before he-or I-was aware you were alive."

Gavril said nothing.

Jaromir moved closer to him.

"You've got to believe me, Gavril," he said, his voice low and urgent. "Yes, I knew about the Vox Aethyria. But this invasion plan, the threats to your mother, this is all news to me."

Anger began to smolder in Gavril's mind, dark as distant smoke.

"You should never have come back," he said quietly. "If there's to be a game of hostages, then you're in grave danger."

"So you'd use me to bargain for your mother's life?" Jaromir said with bitter amusement.

"I'd rather have you as my ally, believe me, Jaro. But if you mean so much to Eugene-"

"I came to plead for Lilias and my son." Jaromir gave a dry little laugh. "And I find myself a hostage."

Gavril gazed at him, torn between his fear for Elysia and his reluctance to betray the enemy who had become his friend. He would be no better than the Tielens if he stooped to the same tactic of threat-making and hostage-taking.

"There has to be another way," he said. "Wait for me here. I won't be long."

The acrid smell of Sosia's steeping wound-herbs made Gavril's eyes sting as he entered Kostya's sickroom.

"Kostya," Gavril said, leaning close to the old soldier's pillow. "I need your advice."

"What?" Kostya jerked awake. A hint of a smile curled his lips. "And when did my lord ever need to consult old Kostya about anything?"

"We're at war," Gavril said. "Eugene of Tielen has invaded us from the west."

"War, eh?" A wolfish gleam lit Kostya's eyes, and he struggled to sit up. Gavril leaned forward to help him, plumping pillows at his back.

"They've taken my mother hostage. They say they'll kill her if we retaliate." Gavril tried to keep the rising sense of desperation from his voice. "What do I do, do, Kostya?" Kostya?"

Jushko appeared in the doorway.

"Map, Jushko!" ordered Kostya with a spark of his old vitality.

Jushko unrolled a painted leather map on the bedclothes.

"They're coming across the ice here." He traced the route with a chipped and grimy fingernail. "And making for Muscobar."

Kostya forced himself up, irritably shaking off Jushko's hand when he tried to help him. For a while he stared at the map, tunelessly humming under his breath.

"Well?" Gavril said, unable to control the growing tension any longer.

Kostya turned to him. He was smiling again, a cruel, triumphant smile.

"Eugene's scared of you, lad."

"Scared? Of me?" Gavril echoed incredulously. "Of one man?"

"Why else take your mother hostage?" Kostya gave a dry chuckle that degenerated into a wracking cough. Jushko eased him back onto the pillows and gave him a sip of water.