The guards went to work at once to set up their new camp, fetching water and deadwood, stretching lengths of canvas to make shelters. Ilse leaned against a tree trunk, overtaken by weariness. The moon had set an hour before. Far to the east, the first pale bands of dawn showed, but the river valley below was overrun with shadows. The air smelled fresh and cool, with a foretelling of rain.

"Do we go on tomorrow?" she asked Raul.

"Not until we talk with your queen," he said. "I want to make certain we agree on the essentials."

One of the guards approached. Raul turned away. Ilse listened to them discuss the watch rotation. She rubbed her palms against her eyes. The brief spurt of joy at seeing Raul had faded hours ago, during the long march into the hills. She had not removed the reason for their separation. She had merely changed the direction of their plans. What came next depended on Valara Baussay.

Raul and the guard were still deep in conversation. Ilse took herself to the edge of camp. Galena and Valara had disappeared. Another guard, Ada Geiss, told Ilse that Galena had volunteered to dig latrines. Valara had retired into her tent for the night. Ada's expression was bland, but Ilse caught a hint of amus.e.m.e.nt in her voice, and she wondered just what Valara had said or done to provoke that.

Most likely she was herself.

She asked where she ought to sleep, and Ada pointed her to Raul's tent. It was the largest of the camp, with a portable writing desk in the corner and a small metal box layered in spells, a miniature of the one he used in Tiralien. Several packs stowed in one corner. Two mattresses, she noted, both made from blankets tucked around pine branches.

On the bed to her left, someone had laid out clean clothes and other necessary items, all of them sized for Ilse. Next to the bed she found her old gear from Tiralien-leather armor, wrist sheaths, even the metal helmet she used for weapons drill on those days when Benedikt Ault pushed her exceptionally hard. I love him, she thought. All over again. He does not come to rescue me. He comes to deliver me weapons.

Ilse changed into a new shirt and trousers, and lay down on her pine mattress. The crushed scent of needles reminded her of magic's green scent. Magic, that rare and dangerous current, and yet the ordinary world was filled with reminders of its presence. Crushed gra.s.s, the tang of forests, the rich perfume of new blossomed wildflowers. Was it, as the old scholars insisted, only a matter of setting your gaze in the right direction? And if that were true, why were so many blind to it?

Rain pattered against the tent ceiling, a rhythmic tap-tapping that emptied her thoughts. Eventually, she slept.

SHE DREAMED OF rain drumming against canvas, against doors and windowpanes. Gradually the rain faded away and she walked in silence through dreams of a milk-white palace. Narrow windows showed a night sky salted with stars. Snow hushed against the stone walls outside. And everywhere hung the scent of magic.

A prince of Karovi sat opposite her, his lean dark face intent upon the book between them. It is a matter of discipline, he said.

His eyes were large and bright, like a bird's. He wore a ruby in one ear, a sapphire set into his cheek. She touched the smaller emerald in her own cheek. Its presence chafed, but she willed away these thoughts and concentrated on the text, an antique volume that one of the diplomats from the Erythandran Court had brought as a gift to her, in recognition of her position as the affianced bride to the Karovin heir. She had showed it to Leos because she respected his opinion in scholarly matters. As usual, they had begun to argue.

Discipline is but one ingredient, she said. You know that, Leos.

Talent, he said with a dismissive gesture.

Not talent alone, she replied. Honor plays a role. So does heart. No, do not scoff, Leos. There are cases throughout history that support my theory that magic is both act and consequence. Imagine if you were that wizard who discovered Lir's jewel-except "discovered" is too soft a word for what he did.

It doesn't matter what he did. He served his king.

No, she said. He captured the magic for himself. He took the gift of magic and entrapped it inside a dead stone for his own glory. He paid a terrible price- She stopped at his expression. You know nothing about him, he said coldly. He rose, taking up the book as he did so. Thank you for the gift. I will treasure it.

He stalked away, his gait unnaturally awkward. She did not have the courage to remind him the gift had been intended for her. She glanced out the window, to the vista of rooftops and the plains beyond. Clouds pa.s.sed before the sun, casting the room into shadow. It had begun to snow, in spite of the spring season, the flakes coming down large and wet against the expensive gla.s.s panes of the window.

She woke to the trill of running water. The air inside the tent was warm and close. The scent she smelled was crushed gra.s.s drenched in rain. Ordinary things from an ordinary world, but still her pulse beat an uncomfortable tattoo as she took in the implications of her dream. She and Dzavek, together, in the days before Karovi broke away from the empire. Why had she never dreamed of him before?

Oh. But I have.

She recalled the image of Dzavek's face as he turned away-an image she had dreamed a hundred times without understanding its import. And another dream, of darkness and torchlight and a blade flashing toward her throat. There was even the moment when she had glimpsed her grandmother's life dream, to see herself in the same white palace. Fragments only, and yet if she had had the wit to piece them together, she might have understood her part in this spectacle.

But no, I only thought how my life had intersected with Raul's.

The thought of Raul drove away all dreams.

She sat up. His mattress was empty. His clothes from the day before lay folded at the bottom, and the mattress showed signs he had slept beside her. The blankets themselves held none of his warmth, but a faint trace of Raul's unmistakable scent lingered in the cloth, the same she had breathed in the night before in the deserted warehouse. It was like finding traces of a ghost.

Then she heard voices not far away-a man's and a woman's.

She crawled from the tent into the twilight. The ground was wet through, and more rain dripped from the trees. Clouds mottled the sky. A red smudge ran along the western horizon. She had slept the day through.

Raul sat alone with Valara Baussay by a low-burning fire in the center of the campsite. A kettle of venison stew hung from a metal rod, set between two stakes. There was also a pot of coffee set beside the fire to keep warm. It had a burnt smell, which told Ilse the others had been awake an hour at least. None of the guards were in the camp.

A bucket of water stood by the tent. Ilse rinsed her mouth and splashed more over her face. Then she approached the other two.

"Have you held a conference without me?" she asked.

Raul smiled tightly. "Hardly. You are the linchpin of our discussions, after all."

His voice was high and edged. And Valara's face was too deliberately bland.

"I am no linchpin," she said. "Merely a partic.i.p.ant."

Raul smothered a laugh. Valara shook her head. Interesting.

Ilse took a seat on the third side of the campfire. Raul sorted through a collection of mugs, plucked the cleanest of them, and poured her a cup of coffee. She accepted it with caution. His mood was clearly sarcastic, Valara's furious. It was easy to see they'd already had at least one unpleasant exchange.

"What have you decided so far?" she asked.

"Nothing," Valara said.

"And everything," Raul added.

Ilse sipped her coffee, which was bitter, and observed them both. Valara's mouth was set in a hard, angry line. Raul appeared amused, but she read tension in the tilt of his head, the way he flexed his fingers as he refilled his own mug.

"Would you like to know what we've discussed?" he said to Ilse. "Your companion is not Karovin or Veraenen. Her accent confirms that. She claims to be Morenniou's newest queen. An outrageous declaration, but let us accept it for now-"

"You said you wanted peace," Valara broke in. "You lied."

"How so?"

"If you truly wanted peace, you would not demand a price in return."

Raul shrugged. "Our queen believes we should provide her with a ship on her word alone. To ask for any a.s.surance is unreasonable."

"I said nothing like that. You want too much."

"I want your promise that you will not involve yourself in our wars."

"And what if I refuse? Would you deliver me to Lord Khandarr?"

"No, to King Leos Dzavek."

Ilse went still. The coffee roiled in her empty stomach. "Raul-"

"Hush," he said. "Let me continue the part our queen expects."

A role, then. Her misgivings, however, did not abate.

Valara was glaring at Raul. "You speak of treason to your own king."

He seemed impervious to her rage. "I've committed treason already, by certain lights. I learned of your escape last week. And yet I said nothing to anyone in authority. If I had, you would be in Lord Khandarr's gentle custody."

A long pause followed while Valara studied Raul. The tattoos on her cheek and under her lips stood out against her pale brown skin. Ilse thought she saw traces of a third. Again, she wondered at their significance.

Finally, Valara said, "You mentioned the jewels before. Does that mean you are searching for them?"

"No. I wish to secure peace between my kingdom and Karovi. The jewels are a hindrance."

"Or a provocation," Ilse murmured.

Raul shot her a keen glance. "Yes, or a provocation. They are rare and powerful objects, which any kingdom might find useful in war. Do you deny that?"

Valara's eyes narrowed-almost an obvious clue to her thoughts, except that Ilse believed nothing obvious about this queen. Was she calculating the risks to any answer? Or possibly weaving a new and more plausible story?

"You wish me to be honest," Valara said at last. "Very well. I have said we in Morenniou possess one of the jewels. I discovered it myself in Autrevelye-what you call Anderswar. It was last summer."

Ilse suppressed a flinch of surprise. Last summer was the time when she and Raul had received disquieting news from their spies. Karovi had begun naval maneuvers off the Kranj islands. Not long thereafter, Dzavek had recalled high-ranking officers from Taboresk, Duszranjo, and Strany. She glanced toward Raul, whose expression had not changed, but she knew the same thought would occur to him.

"Did Dzavek know of your discovery?" he asked.

Valara hesitated. "He did. But he did not know my ident.i.ty until much later. That was when he launched a fleet of ships through Luxa's Hand."

"How?"

Another pause, almost undetectable, but Ilse was watching Valara closely. She did not think the woman was lying outright, but she suspected carefully selected gaps in her story.

"He used magic," Valara said slowly. "Spells locked on the ships, which remained dormant until unleashed by a matching key. It- I am not certain I have the words to describe it, but those spells translated the ships and everything inside them to light."

"You saw that?" Raul said sharply.

She shook her head. "I heard the soldiers talk about it, after they took me prisoner. One set for all twenty ships bound to Morenniou. Another set for those who returned."

Ilse let her breath trickle out. So, Dzavek had found the means to break through the magical barrier set by Morenniou's great mages three hundred years ago. It would require equally great magic to do that, but Leos Dzavek had the knowledge and skill-centuries of it.

Raul refilled his mug with more unpalatable coffee. Such a casual gesture, but Ilse thought she could read great tension underneath, like a panther that has sighted its prey. "Interesting," he said mildly. "Leos Dzavek achieved what no other mage could these past three hundred years. Are you as skilled as he is?"

Valara's gaze never wavered. "No."

"Then how do you propose to return to your homeland? Unless you have Lir's jewel and can use its magic to support your own."

"I have no jewel with me," Valara replied quickly. "It stays hidden in my homeland. The Karovin did not discover its presence, because we gave them a counterfeit wrapped in magic. This is what I told her before." She nodded toward Ilse. "But with a good ship and crew, it is possible to circle around the barrier. Luxa's Hand does not extend infinitely. I've studied the maps left by the old mages. Far south, near the great ice fields, the barrier ends."

Raul sipped his coffee, grimaced, and set it aside. "A dangerous voyage."

"Yes," Valara said. "But remember, a fleet of ships and their soldiers remain in Morenniou, Lord Kosenmark. I might be queen, but I am a hunted queen, far from home and with the enemy at loose in my lands. That is the reason behind my desperation. So I ask again, will you give me pa.s.sage home?"

Raul said nothing for a few moments. Ilse didn't need a magical spell to read his mind. He was casting over what Valara told him, sifting through her words and silences for the truth.

"What about us?" he said at last. "More important, what about the third jewel?"

"What about it?" Valara asked in turn.

"You have one jewel. Leos Dzavek has recovered the second. Do not bother to deny it. I have confirmation from several trusted sources. So far you are well-matched. Veraene has nothing."

"Not exactly nothing," Valara replied. "You have tens of thousands of soldiers more than I. You have a mage councillor of great skill-"

"Leave him aside," Raul said. "One jewel-one creature born of Lir's breath and love and pa.s.sion-that can overturn any advantage we have. We need a better a.s.surance."

"What kind of a.s.surance? Your famous peace? Your word is not enough, Lord Kosenmark. You might say I have nothing to bargain with. But I would gladly bargain my life against my kingdom's security."

The firelight gave the other woman's face a ruddy cast. Her eyes were like dark strokes of ink against a sheet of parchment, aged to the color of honey, her face like the face of stone monuments from ancient times. It was in that moment that Ilse saw why Valara was the heir and now queen. She did not speak empty words.

I have met this woman before, in lives past. Which ones?

She glanced toward Raul. He gave slight nod. My turn, Ilse thought.

"Are you ready for war, then?" she asked Valara. "Are you ready for all your people to die, not just you?"

Valara blinked at the question. "Why should that matter to you?"

"Peace matters to me. Unless we agree, Veraene faces a b.l.o.o.d.y, unnecessary war. Unless we agree, you face a thousand or more soldiers and mages from Veraene or Karovi."

"More threats," Valara said. Her voice sounded rougher than before.

"No, merely observations about the risks following your decisions. You might believe that a war between Veraene and Karovi protects you. It will, for a time. We haven't ships or soldiers or mages enough to battle two kingdoms, especially one so far away as yours. Or you might believe that Morenniou could ally itself with either of us-"

"I don't."

Ilse tilted her hand to one side. "Then you believe that Lir's Veil protects you. Also wrong. Morenniou is no longer the lost kingdom. One fleet of ships found a way through the Veil. Others will follow. War here simply means a delay."

Valara stared at Ilse a long moment. "So what do you propose?" she said at last.

"A balance between the kingdoms," Ilse said. "You pledge to keep Morenniou neutral. Lord Kosenmark gives you pa.s.sage home, and pledges to use his influence to forestall any difficulties between our kingdom and yours."

Valara frowned. "A pledge of influence? From a man dismissed from court? I cannot-"

"And I give myself to you as a hostage," Ilse said.

A thick silence dropped over the campsite. Ilse wasn't certain why she had offered herself. It was impulse, and the knowledge that unless Valara gained a true advantage over Raul, she would never agree to anything he proposed.

But the sight of Raul's masklike expression was like a knife stroke.

She drew a breath. "Let me explain."