Brad nodded. "It's hard to predict the snows."

"Lyshriol has no seasons?"

He gave her a startled smile. She wasn't sure why until she caught a flash of his thought-she had used the true name of the world rather than the one chosen by the resort planners.

"This planet has no axial tilt," he said as they pa.s.sed under the portcullis. "And its...o...b..t is circular. So no seasons. Climate variations mainly come from changes in alt.i.tude and churning of the atmosphere. It's always summer in the plains and winter up here. Snowfall this heavy is unusual, but it happens."

"No tilt and a circular orbit?" Roca asked. "That doesn't sound natural."

"It probably isn't." He motioned at the sky. "Eventually those stars will tear apart the orbit."

Roca glanced at the suns. Aldan had moved out from behind Valdor, showing as a small disk next to its more golden brother. They were probably K stars rather than the human standard of G, as typified by Earth's sun. From what she had seen, it took them about three and one-half hours to orbit each other.

"This world must have an interesting history." She gave Brad a pointed look. "ASkolianhistory."

He raised his hands as if to defend himself. "Jeri, I just run the port."

"Jeri?" Eldri snorted. "Her name is Roca."

"Uh, Eldri-" Roca started.

"Jeri is a false name," Eldri added, glaring at Brad as if daring him to argue.

Roca knew Eldri was a.s.serting his familiarity with her, but he didn't understand what he could reveal.

Roca was an unusual name and a well-known one.

Sure enough, Brad laughed. "Well, h.e.l.l, maybe you're Roca Skolia herself. You know what they say, that she is the most beautiful woman alive, as radiant as gold, with eyes that shimmer like..." His voice trailed off as he stared at her.

"Skolia?" Eldri asked Roca. "You said the name of your province was Skolia. It is your name, too?"

Roca glanced at Eldri, and he inclined his head, understanding her unspoken request. Then he gestured to the riders and soldiers with them. Everyone dispersed, leading away their lyrine, the people of Windward deep in conversations with their visitors, who brought excitement into the community of this isolated mountain fortress. Roca gave Eldri a look she hoped conveyed her grat.i.tude. Although no one at Windward understood English, some from Dalvador might. If she wanted off this world as fast as possible, she might have to take chances in revealing herself, but she had to minimize them.

Roca stopped with Eldri and Brad. Garlin also stayed, standing at Eldri's side. The four of them were alone now in the trampled snow of the courtyard.

Although Roca answered Eldri's question, she spoke to Brad. "Yes. Skolia is my name."

His face paled. "RocaSkolia?"

"Yes."

"This is significant?" Garlin asked.

Brad was staring at her. "G.o.ds, why didn't you tell me?"

"Why do you think?" she said.

He narrowed his gaze. "It is an unusual claim."

"One punishable by death, if false," Roca said. The a.s.sembly guarded its Ruby psions with a tenacity that bordered on obsession.

"If you truly are Roca Skolia," he said slowly, "then I am in one blazing mess of trouble."

"You have done nothing wrong," Roca said.

"Why would you be in trouble?" Eldri asked.

"Roca Skolia is a queen among her people," Brad said.

"Queen?" Eldri put his hands on his hips. "Like this 'king' your resort planners call me?"

"Something like that," Brad said.

"Good." Eldri grinned at Roca. "Then we are well matched."

Brad spoke carefully. "Eldrinson, I don't think you understand."

"Lady Roca." Garlin waited until she turned to him. "When the resort planners call Eldri a 'king,' they give the impression that a true sovereign would have a great deal more power than anyone here possesses. Is this true among your people, too?"

She understood what he was asking: didshehave that kind of power. She said, simply, "Yes."

"Oh, G.o.d," Brad said. "I'm dead."

"Administrator Tompkins." Roca used his formal t.i.tle, trying to jar him out of his panic. "No one will blame you."

"Like h.e.l.l. I've watched your father and son on the news holos. And yes, now that I look for it, I see the resemblance." He took a deep breath. "It's just not anything I would ever have imagined for a visitor to my port."

"Can you help me?" Roca asked. "I must return to Parthonia."

"My communications work at light speed. It would take years for a message from here to reach another world." Brad raked his hand across his tight curls. "I was chosen for this position with the understanding that I could adapt to life here without much support until our presence became better established. It was expected I could go for long periods on my own."

"We must have some recourse," Roca said. "Some way to access the webs."

"Can you create a Kyle web node?" His excitement jumped at the thought.

"Only a member of the Dyad can do that."

"Dyad." Despite the cold, he was perspiring. "You mean the Imperator and Ruby Pharaoh, yes?"

"That is right."

"Your parents."

"Yes. My parents." As much as she disliked revealing herself, it might be the only way to convince him they had to try every extreme to get her off Lyshriol. She had hidden her trail too well; the same twists and turns that freed her from Kurj's scrutiny had also stranded her.

Roca dreaded what Kurj would do to Eldri if he found her here. At best, her son had a controlled animosity for the men in her life. No one could match his memory of his father, Tokaba Ryestar. He considered no man good enough for his mother, especially after Darr.

The closer she and Eldri grew to each other, the more she feared for his life.

11.

Warlords of the Snow.

Roca danced with the other women in an exquisite hall, a room with onion-shaped arches everywhere, all adorned by carvings that resembled frozen lace. Intricate mosaics designed from gla.s.swood covered every surface like stained gla.s.s, but deeper in hue, less translucent. Roca whirled and spun, exuberant, letting herself go as she hadn't done for years. The women wore dresses today, with blue or violet skirts that swirled when they turned.

She didn't understand their speech, but she read their tone, body language, and moods. They drew her into ever more complicated steps, their voices trilling with delight that she learned fast. Although she could handle the gravity better now, she misjudged some of the steps and lost her balance, flailing her arms. Laughing and teasing, the others caught her, making it into a game. They called out with approval when she kicked her leg higher or arched her back farther than anyone else.

Over and over the dancers broke into four pairs, eight women in a set. The patterns were all based on powers of two. In fact, now that she thought about it, everything on Lyshriol came in pairs: two suns, two moons, two sets of two opposing fingers on two hands, two sets of two opposing toes on two feet. She smiled, thinking of Eldri and herself. Two lovers.

The men stood around the edges of the hall, watching, drinking, and laughing among themselves.

Musicians in one corner played drums, reeds, bells, chimes, and harps. Other folks sat at round tables, intent on a game that involved rolling small bubbles of various colors. Children ran through the hall, shaking rattles at one another and bouncing hardened bubbles.

Sometimes a woman in the dance would tease one of the men, waving a scarf at him until he waded in and pulled her out of the crowd, stealing kisses from her. Sometimes he took her out of the room altogether. Roca hoped the men would join the dancing, but they showed no inclination to do so.

Searching for Eldri, she caught sight of him standing under an archway with Garlin and several other men.

He waved, but stayed put.

So Roca danced, abandoning herself to the sheer pleasure of movement. It touched her deep inside, as it had her entire life. Her a.s.sembly duties may have forced her to curtail her dancing, and the grind of the Parthonia Ballet may have dulled her joy in performing, but the love of her art would always be in her heart. This magical time became a warm place in the cold reality of her life, a reality that could all too easily freeze this lovely but vulnerable dream.

Eldri and Roca lay sprawled on his bed, still in their finery from the dance, eating sweet-poms, small blue bubbles that tasted like heaven. Roca gazed dreamily into the fire in the hearth, where gla.s.swood rods burned with red, blue, and green flames.

Eventually she laid her head on the quilt and closed her eyes. Having two sets of visitors in only a few days, first the Bard showing up with his people, then the non-Bard and his party arriving yesterday, had sent Windward into a whirl of parties. It was fun, but exhausting. She ought to rest now; tomorrow they would head back to the starport to see what could be done about this frustrating mess of her being stranded here.

Eldri nuzzled her cheek. "You are an incredible dancer."

"You should dance with me."

"What?" He sounded scandalized. "Do not make such jokes."

She opened her eyes halfway, her lashes shading them in a gold fringe. "Don't men dance here?"

"Of course not. What a question."

She smiled drowsily. "You look as if I just suggested you run naked through Windward."

"Better that than dance," he growled.

"Really? Why?"

He seemed bewildered by the question. "That is like asking why a man isn't a woman. A man who dances is-well-female."

"I think it's s.e.xy."

"Please do not tell me that men dance among your people."

"All the time." She yawned. "The Parthonia Ballet has more male than female dancers."

His mouth fell open. Then he snapped it shut. "No wonder you must come here to find a genuine male person."

Roca laughed. "It is just different customs." She snuggled closer to him. "But you most certainly are a genuine male person."

"Come dance for me some more," he murmured.

A knock came at the door.

Eldri ignored it, pulling Roca against him. Another knock came, louder than the first.

"Bah," he muttered, letting her go. "Enter," he called in his own language.

An older man opened the door, his face creased with lines. As he spoke, his voice sharp, Eldri went rigid. Roca caught little of what the man said, but she recognized the word "lyrine."

Eldri moved off the bed, fast and urgent. "I have to go."

"What has happened?" Roca asked. She stood up next to the bed as Eldri strode to the tube-narrows that held his clothes. "What is wrong?"

He yanked out the boots he wore with his disk mail. "A party of riders comes up the mountain."

Roca felt the blood drain from her face. "From Dalvador, I hope."

"I don't think so." He swung around to her. "Not hundreds of men in armor astride war mounts."

Roca stood with Brad atop the highest tower of Windward. Late afternoon sunlight slanted across them, bringing no warmth. They were in a lookout, an area only a few paces across, protected by merlons carved in the shape of bubble reeds. Freezing wind pulled at their heavy clothes and the hoods of their jackets. It was hard to believe that only yesterday she had stood here with Eldri, watching Brad come up the mountain.

Their new visitors terrified her.

Hundreds of warriors astride dark lyrine were climbing the path, the only viable approach to-or escape from-Windward. Cliffs to the east and west would block the army from surrounding the castle, which meant they could only occupy the barren plain in front of it. However, on the other side of the castle, more warriors were descending the supposedly inaccessible mountains. With her augmented optics, Roca saw men rappelling down the cliffs, anchoring their ropes with spikes they hammered into the stone.

It had shocked Eldri; apparently mountain climbing was unheard of among his people. Until now. Lord Avaril had just invented it.

The men on the cliffs had no access to the castle, but their presence also made it useless for Windward's inhabitants to try bridging the chasmbehindthe keep. If Eldri's people found a way to sneak out the back, the invading army could just as easily break inside. Avaril had thoroughly trapped them.

People were running across the courtyard below, battening, locking, and securing everything. She wished she could help, do anything, but when she and Brad had offered, everyone politely urged them to stay back. They claimed it was because Roca and Brad were incarnations of Lyshrioli deities, the Suns and Night, and as such had to be protected and revered. Roca suspected it had more to do with her and Brad getting in the way because they had so little experience with castle operations.

She studied the ma.s.sive wall around Windward. Several meters thick and many stories high, it was topped by protected walkways, with towers at the corners. Although it differed from castle walls she had seen on other worlds, it served the same basic function, to protect its inhabitants and keep out hostile armies. She prayed it performed its purpose well.

"I need to do something," Brad muttered.