She felt the same way. "They want us out of the way."

"I can't believe this is happening." He dug his hands deeper into his pockets. "An interstellar leader shows up at my port and what do I do? Get her caught in a local war."

"You did nothing wrong," Roca said.

He gave her a dour look. "Tell that to your Imperial s.p.a.ce Command when they show up."

Roca knew he was right; if she died here, Kurj would raze Windward to the ground, along with half the mountain range. Brad would be history. "Can you reach the port with your comm?"

He didn't look optimistic. "I can contact the EI there. I've already sent a message. But Avaril has probably also invaded Dalvador, and even if he hasn't, Eldri's people aren't likely to look for any message from me. They don't understand my equipment and wouldn't trespa.s.s in my home anyway."

Roca nodded, disheartened but unsurprised. Eldri's men were taking positions on walkways and in towers, concealing themselves while they studied the enemy forces. "How will they fight?"

"I can't say." Brad hunched his shoulders against the cold. "Even if I knew ancient warfare, which I don't, they probably have their own strategies here."

"The strategy is the same everywhere," she muttered. "Kill."

To their left, on a large tower, several people walked out onto a balcony. They gazed at the approaching army as it poured between the two statues guarding the end of the path up from Dalvador. The balcony was lower than where Roca stood with Brad, and far enough away that she couldn't pick up the mood of the people there. But it took no telepathy to guess their thoughts; Avaril's army far outnumbered the forces at Windward. The castle's best defense was its impregnability, but Avaril could wait them out until Windward's people starved or surrendered.

"I hope we have enough food," Roca said.

"Maybe they will come to a truce, eh?"

"Maybe." She doubted it, though, given Avaril's advantage.

Eldri and Garlin joined the group on the balcony, both of them in leather armor and disk mail. Compared to the cybernetic armor Roca was used to seeing on soldiers, theirs looked excruciatingly fragile. They were holding their helmets, which were designed like wild beasts and would cover their heads and upper faces, with openings for the eyes.

As Avaril's army spilled onto the plain, a man separated from the general ma.s.s and headed to the castle.

He wore armor and mail similar to Eldri's men, except the leather was dyed red. Stopping at the foot of the bridge, he waved a red scarf over his head.

"What does that mean?" Roca asked.

"I haven't a clue," Brad said.

On the balcony, one of Eldri's men waved a purple flag.

"Maybe they're challenging each other," Brad said.

"I think they want to talk."

He looked doubtful. "Why?"

"The women dance with scarves." She recalled the party this morning. It seemed an eternity ago now.

"When they want to catch a man's attention, they wave it at him."

"This is no courtship," Brad said dryly.

Garlin was leaving the balcony; below, Avaril's man waited at the bridge. Several meters back, a taller man stood in the midst of several warriors, his head held high and his gaze narrowed at the group of people on the balcony. He had wine-colored hair of the exact same shade as Eldri, and he seemed about Eldri's height.

A discordant grinding echoed through the mountains, the sound of the portcullis raising, then lowering. A moment later Garlin appeared in view on the bridge.

Brad swore. "Is he nuts? They could kill him."

"I think they're going to negotiate." Roca watched as Garlin crossed the bridge to Avaril's man.

"I hope so," Brad said. "But we need a backup plan."

Roca studied the scene below. "If Eldri's people destroy that bridge, no one can reach us. The chasm is too wide to jump." Twisting around, she indicated Avaril's warriors in the northern mountains. They had gathered in clumps on snowy ledges and the snow-drenched valley behind Windward, but none had tried crossing the chasm to the castle. "They can't manage it even with their ropes and spikes."

"But then we couldn't leave."

"We could build a drawbridge."

Brad considered the thought. "It might work. But they would need explosives to destroy the bridge down there. I don't know if they have them." He rubbed his chin. "I might be able to help."

Roca smiled. "You blow things up?"

"Actually, usually just the opposite. I'm an engineer." He studied the bridge where Garlin and Avaril's man were talking now. "You're right that the bridge is our weak point. Avaril's men could bring across a battering ram and smash their way in here."

Roca leaned out to see better. The tower was high enough to let her peer over the castle's outer wall, but the portcullis was directly below, making it hard to see. "It would be difficult, I think. But not impossible."

Brad hauled her back, his face alarmed. "Don't do that! I get hives thinking of you falling."

"I won't." She hoped it was true. "I doubt they could bring a battering ram up the mountains. They would have to make it here."

"Nothing up here but snow and rock. We're above the elevation where plants grow." Brad indicated the people working in the courtyard below. "They have to carry in all the food."

Roca tried not to think about those limited stores. "Avaril's people might throw boulders at the castle."

"They would need a catapult, a big one, which has the same problems as a battering ram."

Roca scowled. "None of this makes sense. What does this keep defend? Not Dalvador. Avaril's army came up fromthatside of the plains. It would be easier for them to reach Dalvador than here."

"Dalvador has its own defenses."

"Then why attack this castle? Why is it here?"

Brad spoke slowly. "I'm not certain, but I believe it's more a temple than a fortress. It stands on the border between Dalvador and the Rillian Vales like a-" He paused, thinking. "Like a sentinel that watches over both sides of the world, at least the world as the people here know it."

Roca remembered how Eldri had taken her to the reed temple. "So if Avaril captures Windward, it gives him symbolic dominion over Eldri's people."

"Yes." His voice quieted. "Windward is hallowed to these people. I've been on Lyshriol for three years and never been invited. This is my first visit."

Roca understood what else he was telling her, how much it had meant for Eldri to bring her here. She hoped the Dalvador Bard didn't live-or die-to regret his decision.

Garlin was returning to the castle, while Avaril's man headed back to the army. As Garlin disappeared from view, the portcullis rumbled. Roca dug her hands into her pockets. "I know what else Windward has that Dalvador lacks."

Brad glanced at her. "What?"

"The Dalvador Bard."

His expression turned bleak. "He is the only one between Avaril and the t.i.tle."

"Why is Avaril so intent on killing Eldri's family?" Roca curled her fists in her pockets. "Is he really such a monster?"

Brad squinted at her. "Actually, one might argue that Avaril has more of a claim to the t.i.tle than Eldrinson."

That gave Roca pause. She wanted to hate the man who threatened her lover, and she couldn't imagine Eldri trying to kill anyone's family. But she was hardly an unbiased observer. "Why would Avaril have more of a claim?"

"Avaril's father was the oldest son of the man who served as the Dalvador Bard two generations ago.

Eldrinson's father was the second son." His voice took the cadence of a storyteller. "Many years after the Bard lost his wife, he fell in love with a younger woman. Then his oldest son betrayed him. He impregnated the woman and demanded her hand in marriage. His enraged father disinherited him, which made his second son the heir. That was how Eldrinson's father became Bard. The older son did marry the woman, but she died in childbirth, leaving him even more embittered. He taught his rage to his child-Avaril." Brad exhaled. "And so Avaril Valdoria swore to avenge his parents."

Roca pulled her jacket tighter. "Your people have a saying, yes? The sins of the father-?"

"Shall be visited upon the son. Yes." A grimace creased his face. "Let us hope this castle is as una.s.sailable as it looks."

She shivered. "Let us hope."

People filled the dining hall: Garlin, Eldri, soldiers, women and men from the castle. Young people moved among them, serving food and drink. Everyone wore heavy clothes, fur-lined boots, and jackets or cloaks. Only a low fire burned in the great hearth; they were already rationing the gla.s.swood they used for everything but couldn't grow here. Roca and Brad waited on a bench against the wall, out of the way, a few meters from the long table where Eldri and Garlin conferred with several advisers.

Roca crossed her arms. "We should be over there."

"Garlin refused," Brad said.

She rose to her feet. "Garlin needs to trust us more."

At first Brad looked as if he would caution against interfering. Then he stood next to her. As they approached the table, Garlin glanced up and frowned at them. Following his gaze, Eldri looked too.

Roca stopped at the table. "We would like to help."

"This concerns Windward," Garlin said. "Not you."

"We are here, also," Roca answered.

He waved his hand at the room full of people. "So are they. I do not see them interrupting us."

"We have knowledge they don't."

Garlin scowled at her. "This is not about offworlders."

"It is about defense," Eldri said mildly. "Theirs, too."

"We might be able to offer insights," Brad added.

"I think they should stay," Eldri said.

Garlin's urge to send them away was almost palpable, so much so that Roca wondered everyone in the room didn't feel it. But apparently Eldri's wishes superseded his. He motioned curtly at two chairs across the table, set back from his group. "Be seated then."

As Roca and Brad settled into the chairs, Roca looked around. Three other people were at the table: an older man with gray hair and a craggy visage; a portly woman, also with graying hair, though surely she was only in her early thirties; and Shaliece, the Memory in the red robe. Shaliece watched them all, her concentration never wavering. It unsettled Roca; she felt as if a holovid camera were recording her every move.

The others resumed their discussion. They spoke in Trillian, but Brad translated for her. The two of them were far enough away from the others that as long as he kept his voice low, it didn't disrupt the conversation.

"They are shocked by Avaril's army," he said. "They knew he was gathering men, but they had no idea he had so many."

She felt their bewildered dismay. "What did Avaril's man say?"

"He gave Garlin terms for surrender."

Roca scowled. "Why should we surrender?"

Brad indicated Eldri, who was gesturing with vehemence as he spoke. "He asks the same question. It is a standoff. We can't get out and Avaril's army can't get in. They wonder if Avaril can breach the walls."

He paused. "Personally, I think he would need flyers to get in here or some other technology they don't possess."

"What do they say?"

Brad waited for an appropriate opening, then spoke to the others in Trillian. The older man responded, and Brad translated for Roca. "The walls are strong, probably enough to keep out Avaril." He paused.

"They measure time differently here, but I think he is saying they have enough stores to last about a standard year, and that only with careful rationing."

"A year?" She held back her apprehension. "Surely Dalvador will send reinforcements before then."

He relayed her question and translated the answer. "Apparently Avaril has other forces that have engaged the armies of Dalvador and Rillia. Or so his man claims. We have no way to verify it."

Garlin spoke to Brad in English. "Can you ask your port for help?"

"I've sent messages." Brad tapped the palmtop on his belt. "With a good line of sight from a tower, I can reach the computers. Unfortunately, no one in Dalvador knows to check for messages or how." He glanced at Roca. "I sent a message offworld, but it won't travel any faster than light speed."

The Memory held up her hand. She spoke to Brad in a melodic trill; then, in perfect English, she said, "But it won't travel any faster than-" and tilted her head.

Brad spoke slowly. "Light speed."

She nodded and folded her hands on the table.

Roca smiled at Shaliece. "You speak English well."

Everyone at the table froze. The older man rose to his feet, his lips pressed in a line. Eldri spoke quickly, putting his hand on the man's arm, nudging him back into his chair.

Roca glanced at Brad. "What did I do?"

It was Eldri who answered, his voice gentle. "The Memory will not speak unless her hand is up. It otherwise disrupts her memory of events."

Roca spoke to all of them, with Brad translating. "Please accept my apologies. I am new here and meant no offense."