My interest in the proceedings waxed and waned depending on the subject. After a while I began to feel light-headed and warm as the brandy influenced my body, since protocol dictated that I swallow when tasting for the Commander.

The Generals voted on various topics, but the Commander held the final vote. Mostly he ruled in favor of the majority. No one ventured a complaint when he didn't.

Commander Ambrose had lived in MDa3, scratching out a meager existence with his family in the foothills of the Soul Mountains. Nestled between the mountains and the ice pack, his home was atop a vast diamond mine. When the rich find had been discovered, the King had claimed the diamonds, and "allowed" the Commander's family to live there and work in the mines. He lost many family members to cave-ins, and to the damp and dirty environment.

As a young man seething at the injustices of the monarchy, Ambrose educated himself and began preaching about reform. His intelligence, bluntness and pervasiveness gained him many loyal supporters.

My mind focused back on the meeting when the Generals reached issues regarding MDa5. General Brazell caused a considerable stir. Instead of sliding around his best brandy, he sent a silver tray containing what looked like small brown stones. Valek handed one to me. It was a round drop of Brazell's Criollo.

Before protests about ignoring tradition could escalate, Brazell rose and invited everyone to take a bite. After a brief moment of silence, exclamations of delight filled the war room. The Criollo was filled with strawberry brandy. I gave the Commander the all-clear sign so I could savor the rest of my morsel. The combination of the sweet, nutty taste of the Criollo mixed with the smooth texture of the brandy was divine. Rand would be upset that he hadn't thought of mixing the two, I supposed, then regretted feeling sorry for Rand as I envisioned his deceitful face.

After the praise died down, Brazell made the announcement that the construction of his new factory was complete. Then he went on to more mundane matters of how much wool had been sheared and the expected output of the cotton plantations.

Military District 5 produced and dyed all the thread for Ixia, and then sent it to General Franis's MDa3 to be woven into fabric. Franis nodded his head in concern as he wrote down the figures Brazell quoted. He was the youngest of the Generals, and had the habit of tracing the purple diamonds on his uniform with a finger whenever he was concentrating.

I dozed on my stool as fuzzy thoughts gathered like storm clouds in my mind. Strange dreams about brandy, border patrols and permits swirled like snowflakes. Then the images turned bright and sharp as a picture of a young woman dressed in white hunting furs snapped into my mind.

She held a b.l.o.o.d.y spear high in the air in celebration. A dead snow cat lay at her feet. She slammed the tip of her weapon into the pack ice and drew a knife. Cutting a slash in the cat's fur, she used a cup to collect the blood that spilled out.

She exalted as she drank, scarlet rivulets spilling down her chin. I heard her thoughts clearly in my mind. "No one has managed this feat," she thought. "No one but I!" she shouted over the snow. Her exhilaration filled my heart. "Proof that I am a strong cunning hunter. Proof that my manhood was taken from me. Proof that I am a man. Men will not rule me any longer," she cried. "Become the snow cat to live with snow cats, become a man to live with men."

The hunter turned her face. At first, I took her to be the Commander's sister. They shared the same thin delicate features and black hair. She wore power and confidence like a cloak. Peering at my dreaming self, her gold almond-shaped eyes drove through me like a lightning strike. Sudden recognition that she was the Commander jerked me awake. My heart pounded and my head thumped and I realized I was staring directly into Mogkan's searing gaze. He smiled with satisfaction.

The Commander's reason for hating magicians was as clear to me as gla.s.s. He was a she, but with the utter conviction that she should have been born a man. That cruel fate had chosen to burden him with a mutation that he had to overcome. And the Commander feared that a magician might pull this secret from his mind. Pure foolishness, I thought, shaking my head to dismiss the whole crazy notion. Just because I had dreamed about a woman didn't mean that the Commander was one. It was absolute nonsense. Or was it?

Rubbing my eyes, I glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed that I had fallen asleep. The Commander stared off into the distance, and Valek sat stiff and alert, scanning the room, seeking something or someone. General Tesso had the floor.

Valek pulled his gaze back to the Commander, and b.u.mped his arm in alarm. "What's going on?" he whispered urgently. "Where were you?"

"Just remembering a time long ago," the Commander said in a wistful voice. "More enjoyable than listening to General Tesso's excruciatingly detailed report on the corn harvest in MDa4."

I studied the Commander's features, trying to superimpose the woman from my dream. They matched, but that meant nothing. Dreams twisted reality and it was easy to envision the Commander killing a snow cat.

The rest of the meeting continued without incident, and I dozed on my stool from time to time, untroubled by strange dreams. When the Commander pounded his gavel, I was awake in an instant.

"Last item, gentlemen," the Commander announced. "A Sitian delegation has requested a meeting."

The room erupted with voices. Arguments sprang to life as if the Generals were picking up an old debate right where they had left off. They discussed trade treaties, and quarreled about attacking Sitia. Instead of trading for goods, why not take them? they argued. They wanted to expand their districts and gain more men and resources, ceasing all worries about Sitia attempting to attack Ixia.

The Commander sat in silence and let the flow of advice wash over him. The Generals settled enough to proclaim their beliefs about allowing the Sitians to come. The four northern Generals (Kitvivan, Chenzo, Franis and Dinno) didn't want to meet with the delegation, while the four southern Generals (Tesso, Rasmussen, Hazal and Brazell) favored a summit with the Sitians.

The Commander shook his head. "I acknowledge your opinions about Sitia, but the southerners would rather trade with us than attack us. We have more men and metal. A fact they are well aware of. To attack Sitia we would expend many lives and large sums of money. And for what? Their luxury items aren't worth the cost. I'm content with Ixia. We have cured the land of the King's disease. Perhaps my successor will want more. You'll have to wait until then."

A murmur rippled through the Generals. Brazell nodded in agreement, with his thin lips anch.o.r.ed in a predator's smile.

"I have already agreed to meet with the southern contingent," the Commander continued. "They're due to arrive in four days. You have until then to express your specific concerns to me before departing for your home districts. Meeting adjourned." The bang from the Commander's gavel echoed throughout the dead silent room.

The Commander rose and with his bodyguards and Valek close behind, he prepared to leave. Valek gestured for me to join them. I lurched to my feet. The full effect of the brandy I had consumed washed over me. Giddy, I followed the others from the room. An explosion of sound slipped through the door just before it closed behind us.

"That should stir things up a bit," the Commander said with a wan smile.

"I would advise against vacationing in MD-8 this year," Valek said sarcastically. "The way Dinno reacted to your announcement about the southern delegation I would expect him to pepper your beach house with sand spiders." Valek shivered. "A horribly painful way to die."

My skin crawled too, thinking of the lethal spiders the size of small dogs. Our procession continued in silence for a while as we headed back to the Commander's suite. My gait was unsteady. The stone walls blurred past me, as if they were moving and I was the one standing still.

Outside the Commander's suite, Valek said, "I'd watch out for Rasmussen too. He didn't take the news of the change in your successor well."

The Commander opened his door. I stole a quick glance inside his suite. The same plain utilitarian style that decorated his office and the rest of the castle was present. What had I expected? Maybe a splash of color, or something a bit more feminine? I gave my head a little shake to banish such absurd thoughts. The motion made my head spin, and I had to put a hand to the wall to keep myself from stumbling.

"I watch out for everyone, Valek. You know that," the Commander said before shutting the door behind him.

Upon entering our suite, Valek stripped off his uniform jacket and threw it on the couch. He pointed to a chair and said, "Sit. We need to talk."

I plopped into the chair and dangled a leg over the armrest, watching Valek pace the room in his sleeveless undershirt and formfitting black pants. Imagining my hands helping to ease the tension in the long ropy muscles of his arms almost started a giggling fit. Brandy flowed through my blood, quickening my pulse.

"Two things were very wrong tonight," Valek said.

"Oh, come on. I just dozed for a minute," I said in my defense.

Valek shot me a quizzical look. "No, no. You did fine. I meant about the meeting; the Generals." He continued to pace. "First, Brazell seemed unusually happy about the change in successor and the Sitian delegation. He's always wanted a trade treaty, but he typically exercises a more cautious approach. And second, there was a magician in the room."

"What?" My breath locked. Had I been discovered?

"Magic. Very subtle, from a trained professional. I only felt it once, a brief touch, but I couldn't pinpoint the source. But the magician had to be in the room, or I wouldn't have felt it."

"When?"

"During Tesso's long-winded dissertation about corn." Valek's posture had relaxed a little, as if the act of talking out a problem helped him deal with it. "About the same time your snoring could be heard halfway across the room."

"Ha," I said rather loud. "You were so stiff at that meeting I thought rigor mortis had set in."

Valek snorted with amus.e.m.e.nt. "I doubt you could have looked any better sitting in that uncomfortable dress uniform all night. I imagine Dilana sprayed on extra starch with malicious glee."

Then he grew serious again. "Do you know Adviser Mogkan? He eyed you most of the evening."

"I know of him. He was Reyad's primary adviser. They also hunted together."

"What's he like?" Valek asked.

"Same kind of vermin as Reyad and Nix," I said. The words poured off my lips. I slapped both hands over my mouth, but it was too late.

Valek studied me for a moment. Then he said, "There were a number of new advisers at the meeting. I guess I'll have to check them out one by one. It seems we have a new southern spy with magic abilities." He sighed. "It never ends." He dropped onto the edge of the couch as weariness settled on him like a coating of dust.

"If it did, you'd be out of a job." Before I could stop myself, I squeezed behind Valek and started to ma.s.sage his shoulders. The alcohol had taken complete command of my movements, and the tiny sober section of my brain could do nothing but yell useless admonishments.

24.

VALEK STIFFENED UNDER my touch. Was he expecting me to strangle him? I wondered. As my hands kneaded his muscles, he relaxed.

"What would you do," I asked him, "if suddenly the world was perfect and you had no one to spy on?"

"I'd be bored," Valek said with amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Come on, seriously. A change in profession." I dug my thumbs into the muscle at the base of his neck. "A fire dancer?" A rush of warmth radiated as brandy pumped through my blood.

"No. An arms teacher?" Valek suggested.

"No. It's a perfect world. No weapons allowed." I moved my hands down his back. "How about a scholar? You've read all these books lying around, haven't you? Or are they just to make it difficult for someone to sneak in?"

"Books serve me in so many ways. But I doubt your perfect society would need a scholar on murder."

My hands paused for a second. "No. Definitely not."

"A sculptor? I could carve extravagant statues. We could redecorate the castle and liven things up. How about you?" he asked as I pressed my fingertips into the small of his back. "What would you do?"

"Acrobatics." The word flowed without conscious thought. I had thought I left acrobatics behind with my fire amulet, but it seemed my excursion through the trees had reawakened my desire.

"An acrobat! Well, that explains a lot."

Aroused by my contact with Valek's sculpted body, I slid my hands around to his stomach. Reyad be d.a.m.ned. The brandy had relaxed me past fear. I started to unfasten Valek's pants.

He grabbed my wrists, stopping me. "Yelena, you're drunk." His voice was hoa.r.s.e.

Valek released my hands and stood. I sat, watching him with surprise as he swooped down to lift me from the couch. Wordless, he carried me to my room and laid me on the bed.

"Get some sleep, Yelena," Valek said softly as he left the room.

My world spun as I stared into the darkness. Placing a hand on the cold stone wall next to my bed helped to steady my thoughts. Now I knew. Valek had no interest in me other than my job as the food taster. I had allowed myself to get caught up in Dilana's gossip and Maren's jealousy. The ache of rejection throbbing in my soul was my own fault.

Why hadn't I learned by now? People turned into monsters. At least the people in my experience. First Brazell, then Rand, although Reyad had stayed consistent. What about Valek? Would he transform into one or had he already? Like Star said, I shouldn't be thinking of him at all, not as a companion, and not to fill the dead place in my heart.

As if I could. I laughed. A drunken sound, tattered and ragged, the music of my thoughts. Look around you, Yelena, I chided myself. The poisoned food taster who converses with ghosts. I should be thankful that I breathed, that I existed. I shouldn't long for more than freedom in Sitia. Then I could fill the emptiness. Dismissing all sentimental, weak thoughts, I focused on the business of staying alive.

Escaping to Sitia would break no bonds with Valek. Once I obtained the antidote to b.u.t.terfly's Dust I could set my plans into motion. Determined, I reviewed lock-picking techniques in my mind until I fell into a deep alcohol-induced sleep.

I woke an hour before dawn with a pounding head. My mouth felt like an abandoned spiderweb. I imagined dust blowing from my lips with each exhaled breath. Moving with extreme care, I inched out of bed. Wrapping my blanket around my shoulders, I went to get a drink. Valek liked cold water and always kept a pitcher outside on the balcony.

The crisp night air blew away the lingering fuzziness of sleep. The castle's stone walls glowed, eerily reflecting the moonlight. I located the metal pitcher. A thin film of ice had formed on the top. Breaking it with a finger, I poured the water into my mouth, gulping.

When I tipped my head back for a second drink, I noticed a black spider-shaped object clinging to the castle wall above my head. With growing alarm, I realized the shape was descending toward me. It wasn't a spider but a person.

I searched for a hiding spot, but stopped when I realized that the intruder had probably already seen me. Locking myself in the suite and waking Valek seemed a better plan. But before I could enter the pitch-black living room, I hesitated. Inside, the intruder's dark clothes would be hard to see. A locked door no longer gave me a sense of security since my lock-picking lessons with Janco.

Cursing myself for leaving my switchblade inside, I moved to the far end of the balcony, clutching the water pitcher in my hand.

The wall climber jumped the remaining distance to the balcony floor. The effortless movement triggered recognition.

"Valek?" I whispered.

A bright flash of white teeth, then Valek removed a pair of dark gla.s.ses. The rest of his face was hidden behind a hood that covered his head and was tucked into a skintight body leotard.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Reconnaissance. The Generals tend to stay up late after the Commander leaves the brandy meeting. So I had to wait until everyone had gone to bed." Valek went into the suite. He removed his hood. Lighting the lantern on his desk, he pulled a paper from his pocket.

"I hate a mystery. I would have let the ident.i.ty of the Commander's successor remain a secret, as I have for fifteen years, but tonight's opportunity was too tempting. With eight drunken Generals sleeping it off, I could have danced on their beds without waking them. Not one among them has any imagination. I watched all the Generals put their envelopes from the Commander right into their briefcases." Valek motioned for me to join him at the desk. "Here, help me decipher this."

He handed me a stiff piece of paper. A jumble of words and numbers were scrawled on it. He had copied the eight different pieces of the encrypted message by stealing into each General's room. I wondered why he was confiding in me. Too curious to question, I pulled up a chair to help him.

"How did you break the wax seal?" I asked.

"Rookie trick. All you need is a sharp knife and a tiny flame. Now read me the first set of letters." He wrote it down then reordered the letters until he had created the word siege. Opening a book, he flipped through the pages. Symbols like the ones on my switchblade's handle peppered the doc.u.ment. The page Valek stopped on was decorated with a large blue symbol that resembled a star in the middle of three circles.

"What's that?" I asked.

"The old battle symbol for siege. The dead King used these markings to communicate with his Captains during times of war. They were originally created hundreds of years ago by a great strategist. Read me the next set. They should be numbers."

I told him the numbers. He began to count the lines of text.

It occurred to me that I could borrow this book and figure out Janco's message on my switchblade. Eventually, my a.s.s. Won't Janco be surprised.

When Valek reached that number, he wrote a letter down on a clean page. After he had finished deciphering the message, Valek sat as still as a held breath. Unable to wait any longer I asked, "Who is it?"

"Guess," he said.

I looked at him. I was tired and hungover.

"I'll give you a hint. Who was the happiest about the change? Whose name keeps popping up during the most bizarre situations?"

Terror swept over my body like a cloak. If something happened to the Commander, Brazell would be in command. I would probably be his first order of business, and wouldn't live long enough to see any changes he might implement in Ixia.

Valek understood the look on my face. He nodded. "Right. Brazell."

For two days the Commander met with each General in turn. My brief and periodic interruptions to taste the Commander's food created uncomfortable moments of silence. The tension around the castle was palpable as the Generals' retinues snarled and fought with everyone.

On the third day, when I arrived to taste the Commander's breakfast, I found him absorbed in conversation with Brazell and Adviser Mogkan. The Commander's eyes were glazed, his voice a monotone.

"Get out of here!" Brazell barked.

Mogkan pushed me into the throne room. "Wait here until we summon you," he ordered.