"Indeed. And had I not met you, Serra Amara, I might have discounted what is said. But you are . . . no fool. And I have watched the Tyr'agnate in the streets of the Empire; I have watched him in the folds of the Imperial Court. I have seen him handle his Tyran, and his par, as he pledges allegiance to a boy whose measure he has taken only in judgment.

"He is no fool, and he trusts you. You have met the Tyr'agnate of Mancorvo."

"On one or two occasions."

"And of him?"

"He is a man bound by convention."

"Indeed. Bound by Lambertan sensibility. It is possible-barely, and only just-that he might have considered the death of your kai the balance by which he would be willing to serve at your side in this war."

"They were his men."

"Yes."

"His Tyran."

"Yes."

"You believed that his hand was behind this act."

Alina's gaze was upon the columns that bound the Lady's shrine. "I did. Who else could give commands to the Tyran?"

She nodded. "It is so with my husband's men."

"Your husband's Tyran are also his blood. He is the only man in the Dominion who has made, of his par, an oath-guard. I have often admired the courage of that decision."

"And the wisdom?"

"Ah. The wisdom was only evident when they met in the Imperial Court. Ser Fillipo is cunning, and not without ambition."

They were silent a moment, and then the Serra Amara said softly, "and now?"

"Now?"

"Now you believe that this a.s.sa.s.sination was not done at the behest of your brother?"

"I believe that it is a possibility. And yes, Serra, I have the desire to believe it that makes the belief itself suspect. You have no such desire. How do you see it?"

The Serra Amara's brow lifted. "You are bold, Serra Alina."

"It was always considered one of my failings."

"Ah."

"I did not lie to you. I did not come to persuade you of the possibility of my brother's innocence. He will do that, or fail in that, when next you meet, if you afford him the opportunity. But I will tell you now that he will not stoop to lie. His is a game of politics that very few men are given the chance to play. He uses honesty and honor as weapons, and because they are his weapons, he is forced to display cunning in their use.

"If he was responsible, you will know."

"You are saying that he will not lie?"

"He will not lie."

"Ah." The Serra bowed. "I . . . thank you, Serra Alina. And now I admit my own curiosity. Why did you choose to seek audience with me this eve? If not for your brother's sake, if not for the sake of the man you have chosen to accompany?"

"It is for Valedan kai di'Leonne's sake that I chose to come, but I do not speak for him. We have had no speech, formal or informal, no strategies by which he wished me to approach this meeting. He is not aware that I am here, and I am uncertain that he would understand my presence if it were to be revealed to him."

"Is he, then, so very Northern?"

Ah. Now, she must tread with care.

But care and timidity were only synonyms for those without bold hearts.

"He speaks to both the South and the North," Alina said quietly. "Had you asked me that question at any other place, I would have said he was very Southern."

The Serra Amara's smile was both slight and genuine as she acknowledged the Serra's oblique compliment.

"But he chooses which part of his heritage to honor and which to reject, and although he asks my advice, he will not always take it."

"Will he take some of it?"

"Indeed, and value that which he takes."

"He will be a good husband."

Alina hesitated a moment, although the hesitation was not visible. And then she, too, smiled. "He proposed to me," she said softly.

The Serra's brows rose at least an inch. "To you?"

Serra Alina nodded.

"You refused."

"How could I do otherwise? If he wins this war, the wife he requires will be . . . a different wife. A younger wife." She bowed her head a moment.

"You are Lambertan," the Serra Amara said, speaking the clan's name for the first time in weeks without rancor. "And you are, of course, correct." She gazed at the columns which formed the confines of the Lady's shrine; at the darkening sky. "Did you love your nephew, Serra Alina?"

"How could I do otherwise? He was raised in the harem that was my home." She closed her eyes. "I have no sons, and I am no fool; I will have none. None but Mareo's. I would have given anything of value I had to save him. But what does a woman have of value in a war?"

The words were bitter.

But they were Serra Amara's words, her thoughts, on this eve. They sat, the divide between genders greater, for this moment, than the divide between bloodlines.

"What would you have of me, Serra Alina? You have answered all my questions; I have none left."

"I would have you answer mine, Serra."

"Then ask."

"The kai Leonne is no longer content to come to the harem, to my chambers within the confines of the harem, when he seeks advice."

"Ah."

"No, it is not what you think. He . . . he has ordered me to be available."

"You are."

"Upon the field."

The words robbed the Serra Amara of hers; she was silent. At last, she said, "Does he truly not understand what this means?"

"He understands that Ramiro di'Callesta values your advice. He understands that the kai Lamberto values his wife."

"In their proper context."

"Yes. But he values the appearance of context less than he values the advice. Understand, Serra Amara, that this was not a request. Any request of this nature that he has made, however obliquely, I have refused. He believes that he understands the cost he will incur, and feels that the cost of such an appearance is less of a difficulty than my absence."

"He does not understand the South."

"Indeed."

The Serra Amara was again silent. Even in the privacy of this garden she was not alone; the hour of the night excused her frankness, but only to a point. She could not openly criticize the man to whom her husband owed allegiance, although that man clearly deserved such a criticism. Alina knew this, and waited.

"Will he avenge my son's death?"

"Yes."

"And if what you believe is true is not, in fact, true?"

"He will kill my brother."

"You are certain of this."

"I am certain that he will try."

"He is young."

"Indeed. And the young make our greatest heroes with cause, with reason."

"Then I will aid you."

Serra Alina waited.

"Bring your clothing and your personal items to my quarters. Bring them publicly. Make your display of obeisance, if you are determined to serve this man in the fashion he desires."

"And?"

"I will take you into my harem. I will . . . open my doors, and its heart, to your use."

"I am Lambertan."

"You are merely a woman," the Serra said, with another of her slim smiles. "As am I."

"And I?"

"You will do what you intend; you will take up Northern dress, Northern clothing, Northern armor. You will braid your hair in the fashion of the North, expose your skin, stand with arms by your sides in the company of other such Northerners. You will be an object of scorn and derision and curiosity, as they are-but you will be a part of their foreign life.

"You will not be the Serra Alina di'Lamberto to any who does not already know of your existence and your value to the young kai Leonne."

The Serra Alina bowed low, her forehead touched the soft moss on the stones at the foot of the shrine. Resting there, absorbing their cool in the stillness of this perfect evening.

Then she lifted her head.

"My brother," she said softly, "the Tyr'agnate of Mancorvo, did not choose the war he fought thirteen years ago. He did not choose the battle in which his kai died, untested, and alone. He did not choose the moment of retreat and the moment of surrender.

"But there was choice in the venue and the turn of the battle."

"And my husband chose this battle?"

"To his credit, and his honor, yes. Knowing perhaps less than we knew, or perhaps more. He chose to preserve the life of Baredan di'Navarre."

The Serra Amara said, softly, "You are a dangerous person."

"Our fates are bound; Lambertan, Callestan, Leonne. And I believe that more is at stake in this war than the simple disposition of a few miles of land; more will be gained-or lost-than a t.i.tle, a Dominion."

"Women have never had a place in war."

"And they have always had it." Alina bowed again. "This war will mark us, and remake us. Those," she added softly, "whom it does not kill." She rose.

"Alina."

"Serra Amara?"

"In the morning, I will see the world once more in the light of the Lord's gaze."

"And I. But seeing it in the darkness of the Lady's will grant me the insight and the courage I require to continue in the face of the Lord."

The Serra Amara rose as well.

"I will return in the morning with my possessions, my cerdan, my attendants."

"You have no serafs here?"

"I came from the North. No, I have no serafs."

"Take two of mine."

"I would not take them onto the field."