"Now, sister!" he shouted.

Smoke stung her eyes and filled her lungs. She heard more rockets going off. Unable to see, impelled by sheer panic, Kamil clambered over the ledge and hurtled toward the blessed safety of the cavern. Xris ran out, stood in front of the cave, blasting away.

A woman's hands caught Kamil, halted her mad forward rush. For a moment all she could do was cling blindly to Astarte, gasp for breath, and try to understand that she was safe, she'd made it.

"We're okay for the moment, Your Majesty," Xris said, dodging back inside. "You and Kamil go into the back of the cave. Both of you keep down. I'll stop 'em at the entrance." He was reloading his weapons hand, began shouting into the commlink. "Raoul! Damn it, Raoul, come in!"

"Xris!" came a voice over the commlink. "This is the ar- Brother Daniel. The queen? Is she safe?"

"For the time being. My guess is they want her alive, or else they'd have killed her by now. Alert the baroness-"

"I already did. But she refuses to bring her forces inside the temple grounds. It's against their law-"

"Law? The hell with that shit!" The cyborg swore.

The woods began to move. Shadows beneath the trees came alive, began closing in. Kamil grabbed hold of Xris's good arm, tugged and pointed. "Look . .."

"I see. Get in the back, damn it!" Xris shouted at the queen.

"No." said Astarte calmly. "I will not. And put away your weapons." Reaching out, she plucked Kamil's lasgun from her hand, tossed it far back in the cave. "There will be no killing."

"Too late. Your Majesty," Xris said, keeping his eyes on the commandos, who were moving nearer with each moment. "There's already been killing. Some of your people are dead. Maybe some of mine." He was back on the commlink. "Brother Daniel, go to the baroness. Make her listen to reason. Tell her we're surrounded but we can hold out-"

"Archbishop, this is Astarte." The queen raised her voice to be heard. "Tell my mother I am safe and well. I intend-"

"Xris!" Kamil cried.

Three figures, two men and a woman, had emerged from the swirling smoke. The men held beam rifles, the woman carried a lasgun, all leveled in the direction of the cavern.

Xris shoved the queen behind him, raised his weapons hand.

"No, Xris! I forbid it!" Astarte cried, grabbing hold of his arm. Her voice was stern and commanding. "There will be no more killing. Those who bring violence to these holy grounds will bring violence upon themselves."

She stepped out in front of the cyborg, moving swiftly, before he could stop her. "You have defiled sacred ground," she said to the invaders, her voice stern. "What do you want?"

One of the men came forward, actually raised his hand to touch his helmed forehead. "Captain Richard Dhure, Your Majesty. We'd like you to take a little trip with us, ma'am."

"If I agree to come with you, will you leave in peace? Will you stop the killing?"

"We never wanted to harm anyone, Your Majesty. But we have a job to do and that is to deliver you safe and sound to the chosen destination." Dhure was polite, respectful, and he never lowered his rifle. "If you'll come with us, ma'am, we'll be out of here in five minutes."

"Very well," Astarte agreed.

Deliberately keeping her body between that of the commandos and the cyborg, the queen walked toward the front of the cavern. Such was her calm, imperious air that Kamil stared at her, dazed, let her go.

"Stop her!" Xris ordered, out of the side of his mouth. "I'll take care of them."

Jolted to action, Kamil jumped forward, reached the queen's side. The cyborg dodged to his left, to get a clear shot at the leader.

A sniper, hidden in the woods, had apparently been waiting for just such a move. A single deadly beam sizzled into the cavern, struck Xris in the chest. The cyborg flew backward, landed heavily on the cavern floor.

The two women froze, immobilized, clinging involuntarily to each other. Xris lay motionless, his eyes closed, smoke rising from his burning shirt. The twist dangled from his flaccid lips. LED lights on the cybernetic arm flashed, the fingers twitched spasmodically.

"Oh, Xris . . ." Astarte pushed Kamil aside, tried to go back to him.

"This way, Your Majesty," called Captain Dhure. "Out front. Like I said, we don't want to hurt anybody, but we have a job to do. The next shot takes out your girlfriend here."

"Don't hurt her," Astarte commanded. She had stopped, turned around. "I will come with you."

"Don't go," Kamil whispered.

Astarte smiled reassuringly. "I am in the hands of the Goddess," she said softly.

Kamil was numb with shock, shivering. She couldn't say a word.

Astarte walked steadily out of the cave. But she had taken only a few steps when she staggered, swayed on her feet.

"Careful," called the captain, halting his men, who had been about to leap forward, "it may be a trick. You, girl"-he gestured with his rifle at Kamil-"help your mistress."

But Kamil was already there. She caught Astarte in her arms, lowered her to the ground.

"Are you hurt?" Kamil asked anxiously.

Astarte shook her head, made a weak attempt to sit up. "No ... I just felt faint____I'll be-"

Kamil's breath caught in her throat. She didn't know how she knew, except that she had helped her mother bring six baby brothers into this world. "You're pregnant!" she gasped.

"Hush!" Astarte gripped Kamil tightly. "Don't say anything. No one must know. The Goddess has told me. 'The baby may not be born .. .' Promise me! Swear by your God!"

"Just rest. Don't talk anymore." Kamil looked up at the captain of the commandos. She didn't know what these people wanted. Perhaps it would be best if they didn't know they had an additional prize, that the queen was carrying the royal heir. Was it Dion's child? Kamil swallowed hard, squeezed Astarte's hand.

"I promise," she said softly, swiftly. "Her Majesty is ill," she said to the captain. "She shouldn't be moved."

"We'll take good care of her. We have a medic on board." Captain Dhure was saying something into a commlink. Looking skyward, he made a lowering motion with his hand.

A dark shadow fell over them. A hovercopter was overhead. At the captain's signal, the craft tilted, began descending sideways down the side of the mountain, using blasts of air to push itself aw ay from the rocks.

"Help me to stand," Astarte ordered.

Kamil regarded her anxiously. "Should you?"

"Yes. The dizziness is past."

Kamil did as the queen commanded, assisting Astarte to her feet. The captain kept one eye on them, another on the cave, but even he must have been able to determine that the cyborg wasn't faking.

The hovercopter reached ground level. Air jets blasted around them, whipped up dust and smoke, spreading the fires among the trees. It was difficult to stand in the fierce wind. Astarte's long hair came undone, blew into her face.

Kamil brushed stinging bits of rock and sand from her eyes, tried to see. When the hovercopter touched down, Captain Dhure firmly but respectfully led Astarte toward it.

Feeling helpless and wretched, Kamil watched the queen depart. Astarte walked with dignity, one hand holding her hair back from her face in order to see. The commandos treated her with deference. The queen might have been making a royal junket.

Suddenly, on impulse, with no clear idea what she was doing or why, Kamil ran forward.

"Let me go with her!" she shouted above the roar of the air jets.

Captain Dhure eyed her dubiously.

"I'm her . . . her handmaiden," Kamil told him, saying the first thing that came into her mind.

Shieldmaiden . .. handmaiden.

The captain didn't have much time for consideration. Perhaps it occurred to him that the queen might be more tractable if she had a companion along. He agreed with a wave of his hand, and Kamil ran to the copter. The queen was already inside. One of the commandos assisted Kamil.

"What are you doing?" Astarte stared at her.

"I'm coming with you."

"You don't need to do this."

"Yes, I do," said Kamil fiercely, and turned her head away, ending the conversation.

She knew, without asking, whose child the queen carried.

A soldier strapped Kamil securely into her seat. Another wrapped a blanket around the queen.

Captain Dhure climbed in. "Take 'er up," he told the pilot. "You patched through to the baroness? Yeah, put her on. Baroness, this is Captain Richard Dhure, Ghost Legion. We've taken your daughter hostage. ... No, you listen to me, Baroness. Her Majesty is fine and she'll stay fine so long as you follow our instructions. We had hoped to keep this low-profile, but your people ruined that.

"This is what you tell the press: An assassination attempt was made today against Her Majesty, the queen. The attempt was foiled. The queen is safe and she has gone into hiding on this planet until you are assured that all the people involved have been captured . .."

The copter lifted up, its motion erratic and jerky as it fended off the rocks. The noise of the jets drowned out whatever Dhure was saying. Kamil had heard enough anyway.

Clinging tightly to the sides of the seat, she stared down at the ground, which was falling away rapidly beneath her. Fires burned. Smoke was spreading through the temple gardens. Other hovercopters were whirring overhead, dropping down to pick up the remainder of the commando force left on the ground. They wouldn't be picking up all of them. She saw a few bodies, probably from Xris's rockets. Their retreat was swift and easy; no one made any attempt to stop them. The commandos left their dead behind.

Crowds had gathered in the temple gardens, were staring up at them. Kamil could see a small procession descending down the mountainside. It was led by the bright robes of the archbishop. Following after came the flamboyant pink of the Adonian, and beside him two healers bearing a litter holding a small raincoated body.

Other priests and healers were scaling the mountainside. They'd find Xris. Find him dead ... alive ...

And Astarte was carrying Dion's child.

Kamil suddenly began to cry.

A gentle hand, cool fingers, brushed against hers. Kamil wanted to shake the hand off, but its touch was comforting, eased the bleak unhappiness, the pain, the anger.

Kamil clasped her hand over Astarte's, held on fast.

Neither woman spoke. Below, in the temple gardens, smoke drifted among the trees like ghosts.

Chapter Six.

The King has killed his heart.

William Shakespeare, Henry V, Act II, Scene i Tusk climbed out of the Scimitar's hatch, descended slowly down the ladder, taking in everything around him as he went. He'd landed the spaceplane on a hangar deck in a warship, a ship of the same type and variety as the old Phoenix. The hangar bay was now shut and sealed. Breathable air was filling the chamber, and an honor guard was marching out across the deck to welcome them.

"At least that's what I hope they're doing," Tusk said to himself. He loosened his lasgun in its holster, marked places in the hangar bay he could use for cover.

The honor guard drew themselves up in formation, raised their weapons in salute, did not appear prepared to gun anyone down. Two officers stepped forward, bowed with utmost respect to Lord Sagan, who had left the plane first. They were all now waiting for Tusk.

Reaching the deck himself, Tusk was less than pleased to recognize his two former passengers-Commander Perrin and Captain Zorn.

"Welcome aboard, Tusca," said Cynthia with a cool smile and a firm handshake.

"Got any more scotch?" asked Don, broadly winking.

Tusk watched his hand clench into a fist-apparently of its own volition; knew that in about three seconds that fist would be giving good ol' Don something to wink about. Seeing Lord Sagan watching him without seeming to be watching him, Tusk forced a grin, uncurled his fingers, and permitted Don to wring his hand practically off at the wrist.

"How's the vacuum cleaner business?" Tusk asked.

"The vacuum-?" Don blinked, then his booming laugh echoed through the hangar bay. "Oh, you mean Mrs. Mopup? Ha, ha. That's a good one." He clapped Tusk on the shoulder. "She's fine. Just fine. She'll appreciate you asking."

"I'm so glad that you've decided to join us," said Cynthia. She turned back to Sagan and, unless Tusk was mistaken, the woman was regarding the Warlord with far more than professional interest. "My lord," she said in softer tones, "His Highness has asked that you would attend him immediately in the royal quarters. Commander Perrin will escort you there. I will take Commander Tusca to his quarters."

"I am at His Highness's command," said Sagan with a slight inclination of his head.

The Warlord was wearing the long black cassock of a priest of the Order of Adamant. Tusk had wondered at first at the change of costume-Sagan had dressed in fatigues during the trip across the galaxy. The cassock's long skirts were cumbersome and-to Tusk's mind-implied weakness. But now, standing on the hangar deck, Tusk revised his opinion. The black-robed man stood out in sharp contrast to the uniformed soldiers surrounding him. And the robes didn't imply weakness so much as latent power, a mysterious power that awed, frightened, and-apparently-attracted.

"Will you be dining with His Highness tonight, my lord?" Cynthia asked.

"I am entirely at His Highness' disposal," Sagan answered.

"Then perhaps I shall see you there, my lord," Cynthia replied, smiling.

Sagan bowed and walked off with Commander Perrin. The Warlord didn't give Tusk a backward glance.

"Just delivering the goods, aren't you?" Tusk said to Sagan's back, somewhat bitterly. It was all part of the act, of course, and Tusk had to admit that their entrance had played well. But somehow he hadn't expected his costar to walk off stage and leave him to face the audience alone.

The honor guard tromped after Lord Sagan. Tusk was left with Cynthia. He smiled at her and hoped his smile didn't look as sick as he felt.

"This way, Commander," Cynthia said formally. Though she was automatically returning Tusk's smile, her eyes had strayed once more to Derek Sagan.

And though Tusk was a happily married man, he couldn't help but feel somewhat slighted. My God! Sagan had to be sixty, at least!