Arne's demeanour changed instantly. His face became respectful, and he bowed deeply, a gesture courtly even in this incongruous setting. "Princess, I am your servant to order as you will."

Rivkah smiled and held out her hand. Arne took it and pressed his lips briefly to its back. Ogden and Veremund stared at the man. The dour and uncommunicative Arne was showing a side they had not suspected previously.

"And my Lord Axis?" Arne asked, only reluctantly relinquishing Rivkah's hand. "He is well?"

Rivkah nodded. She liked this man. He had a good heart and honest intentions.

'He is well, Arne, and has embraced his heritage."

Relief crossed Ames face. "The farflight scouts had told us so, but to hear it from the woman who gave him birth is more than I had hoped for."

He gave Azhure one more hard stare, noting the handsome bow across her back, then whistled his men closer.

"Our camp is nearby," he said. "And we have spare horses there. Tomorrow morning we will ride for Sigholt."

As they turned the last bend in the HoldHard Pass and Sigholt came into view, Ogden andVeremund reined in their donkeys, astonished.

"Changed, hasn't it?" Arne remarked.

Rivkah kneed her horse beside the Sentinels' donkeys. Once she had hated Sigholt as the symbol of her loathed marriage to Searlas, Duke of Ichtar and father of her eldest son, Borneheld. Even though StarDrifter had come to her there, even though Axis had been conceived on its roof, Rivkah had never wanted to come back.

But the Sigholt that stood less than half a league down the pass was a very different Sigholt to the one she had known.

"The farflight scouts said that Sigholt had come alive," Veremund said, his voice full of awe, "but I had not realised how much the Keep had regained its vigour."

Ogden sat silently, tears of joy streaming down his face.

The most obvious difference was the Lake. It stretched away into the distance, ruby tints reflecting in the occasional shaft of sunlight that broke through the clouds. Steam gently rose from its surface, wafting towards them as it was caught by the northerly wind. In the month or more since the spring had been unblocked, the Urqhart Hills immediately surrounding the Lake had come alive. Red and purple gorse flowered across the mid- to high slopes, while in the lower slopes close to the heat and life of the water, ferns and rock-flowers were starting to spread. The stone Keep itself, once a uniform and depressing leaden hue, had lightened so that it was now a pale silvery and welcoming grey.

Colourful pennants fluttered from its parapets. In the following months, as the greenery and the flowers spread across the nearby hills, Sigholt would become a paradise. Even now it was close to being the most beautiful place Rivkah had ever seen.

"The air is warm," Azhure remarked. Ever since Arne had found them Azhure had been uncharacteristically quiet. Rivkah smiled reassuringly at her, knowing she was nervous about meeting Belial again.

Arne glanced at Azhure. Two days ago he had challenged her to demonstrate her skill with the bow she carried - Arne had thought that perhaps it was simply a gaudy toy. But she had won his grudging respect with her skill.

Even Belial, one of the best archers Arne had ever known, would find it hard to match her. Then, of course, there were the hounds. The Alaunt were a well- trained, well-disciplined pack, and answered instantly whenever Azhure spoke to them. Arne had worked with hunting dogs before, but he had never seen such as these. They followed close behind Azhure day after day, the leading dog, Sicarius, loping by her side.

"The water is hot," Arne finally said, turning to face Azhure, "and it warms the air. Gorgrael cannot touch us here with his icemen. Sigholt is a haven."

As they rode closer, the sparkling moat surrounding Sigholt became obvious.

"It looks so different," Rivkah said to Azhure as they rode up to the bridge.

"This Sigholt lives and laughs."

"Stop," Arne ordered as they neared the bridge. "Ogden, Veremund, you go across first, then Princess Rivkah and Azhure."

Ogden and Veremund, smiling broadly, dismounted from their donkeys so they could step across the bridge personally.

"Welcome, Ogden. Welcome, Veremund," the bridge said, joy obvious in her melodious voice. "It is long since I felt your steps across my back."

Rivkah s and Azhure's eyes opened wide in surprise.

"The bridge lives, Princess/' said Arne, "and she guards against all who are not true."

Ogden and Veremund prattled happily to the bridge as they crossed, then embraced Jack who waited in Sigholt's open gate for them. They greeted him cheerfully, but their faces fell as they heard Zeherah had not been refound.

"Princess." Arne motioned with his head towards the bridge. "You next."

Rivkah heeled her horse s flanks. Just before the horse stepped onto the bridge, the bridge spoke. "Are you true?"

"Yes, I am true," Rivkah said in a clear voice.

"Then cross, Princess Rivkah, and I will see if you speak the truth."

Rivkah urged her horse forward. What did the bridge mean?

When she was halfway across the bridge spoke again. "You were once Duchess of Ichtar, Princess Rivkah." The beautiful voice was now toneless.

Rivkah was suddenly all too aware of the waters rushing underneath the bridge. Huddled in the shadows of the gate of Sigholt she could see a group of men waiting for her. Ogden and Veremund, as the man beside them, had fearful expressions on their faces. "Yes," she whispered. "I was."

Her horse abruptly stopped and Rivkah could not make it move forward.

Perspiration began to bead her forehead.

"You were not true to your husband, Rivkah. You were not true to the Duke of Ichtar, Searlas. You betrayed him with another."

Rivkah swallowed. "No," she finally forced out. "No, I was not true to Searlas." Somehow she could not lie to this bridge. "I betrayed him atop this very Keep."

There was silence as the bridge contemplated this. Then, shockingly, it laughed, a peal of sheer merriment. "Then you have my heart, Princess Rivkah, for I do not like the Dukes of Ichtar! You and I will be friends!"

Rivkah grinned weakly, and her horse moved forward once more. "Thank you, bridge," she said. "Thank you."

Watching from the far side Azhure breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment she had thought the bridge would reject Rivkah. She glanced at Arne, who nodded at her, then she kneed her horse forward.

"Are you true?" the bridge asked as she approached.

"Yes, I am true," Azhure answered confidently.

"Then cross, Azhure, and I will see if you speak the truth."

The bridge accepted Azhure almost as soon as her horse had stepped onto the red-veined silvery-grey masonry.

"You spoke the truth, Azhure. Welcome to my heart."

"Thank you, bridge," Azhure said, looking to where Rivkah had halted her horse just the other side, waiting for her so that they could enter Sigholt together.

But the bridge was not yet finished. "I have not felt your father's step for many a long year, Azhure. Where is he?"

Azhure stared, open-mouthed. Hagen had crossed this bridge?

"Er, he is dead," she finally managed to say.

"Ah," the bridge said sorrowfully. "I am sad. I loved your father, although many did not. We passed many a night deep in conversation." Rivkah frowned at Azhure as she rode up to her. "What was that about?"

"I don't know, Rivkah. Perhaps the bridge confused me with someone eke.

Hagen never crossed this bridge."

As they kicked their horses forward, two men stepped out from the shadows of the fortified gateway. Azhure tensed. One was Belial, although the other man she did not know.

"Belial," she whispered.

But Belial spoke to Rivkah first. "Welcome to Sigholt, Princess. I am Belial, once lieutenant to your son in the Axe-Wielders, now commander of his base here in Sigholt." He smiled, his pleasant face relaxing under sandy hair, his hazel eyes crinkling at Rivkah. "Welcome home, Rivkah."

Rivkah greeted him warmly. Axis had told her so much about this man. "I can think of no better man to welcome me back to Sigholt than the man whose friendship has meant so much to my son. I am pleased and deeply honoured to meet you, Belial."

Belial inclined his head, then turned to Azhure.

"Azhure." He held out his hands. "Come down from your horse."

Azhure hesitated, then leaned down, placing her hands on Belial's shoulders, feeling his hands grasp her about the waist as she swung down from her horse.

Rather than letting her go once her feet were on the ground, Belial's hands tightened. "I should throw you in the moat for what you did to me," he said, his face expressionless. "I trusted you, yet you did not repay my trust well."

Azhure s entire body tensed, and her eyes glinted with tears of shame and regret. She could not say anything to this man she had treated so poorly.

Belial's eyes flickered over her face. He had thought her beautiful in Smyrton, but since then she seemed to have not only grown more mature, but to have gained an aura of wildness that made her even more fascinating. And now here she was standing before him in Sigholt. Could life get any better? He dropped his hands from her waist reluctantly.

"As much as you might deserve a ducking, Azhure, I will merely welcome you to Sigholt instead. We will discuss the issue of recompense later." Azhure managed a small smile.

"Magariz?" Belial said, beckoning to his friend. "May I introduce you to the Princess Rivkah and to Azhure?"

The man Azhure had noticed earlier now stepped forward. In late middle- age, his black hair thickly lined with silver, his limp and the raised scar running down his left cheek only accentuated his handsomeness and appeal.

As Belial had helped Azhure from her horse, so now Magariz held out his hands for Rivkah.

"Welcome, Princess," Magariz said quietly. "It has been a long time. We are both considerably greyer than when we last met, but at least we meet in happier circumstances."

Rivkah held out her hand for Magariz to kiss. "But I am the greyer, I see, my Lord Magariz." "But just as beautiful," he grinned, raising his eyes from her hand.

"You know each other?" Azhure asked. "How?"

Rivkah laughed at the puzzlement on both Belial's and Azhure's faces. "You forget that I was a child of the Carton court, Azhure. When I was growing up Magariz was a youthful page, waiting at high table."

She turned back to Magariz, who still had not let her hand go. "And now you are a commander, Magariz. It is more than the grey in our heads which tells me how many years have passed."

Magariz finally let Rivkah's hand go, stepping back a pace. "I grew heartily sick of waiting at tables, Princess. Sometime after your marriage to Searlas I persuaded my father to let me join the palace guard. After many years, Priam assigned me to Borneheld's service when he became Duke and eventually Borneheld gave me the command at Gorkenfort. There I mouldered for over ten years before the events of the past eight months propelled me into a greater adventure than I had ever dreamed." He shrugged a little. "Thirty years in so few sentences, Rivkah. But that is my life since last we spoke."

"And from Gorkenfort you joined Axis' cause," Rivkah said. "You always did make reckless choices, didn't you?"

Magariz's mouth twitched. "Some of my choices have been a little impetuous, Princess, but there is not one that I have regretted."

Rivkah smiled and she turned away slightly, loosening her cloak in the warm air of Sigholt. "I know so little of Borneheld, Magariz. You must spend some time with me, tell me of him."

Grave now, Magariz bowed slightly from the waist. "Anything, my Princess."

"And Faraday, the current Duchess of Ichtar," Rivkah went on. "I know so little of her. You must speak to me of her as well."

Azhure had a fixed and overly bright smile on her face. Well, thought Rivkah, she must accept that Axis will ride across Achar into Faraday's arms. She must accept that she has no future with Axis.

Then Rivkah gasped in utter delight as Reinald stepped forth. She hugged him fiercely. When she'd lived here as Duchess of Ichtar, Reinald had been one of her only friends.

Belial introduced Magariz to Azhure, then all were interrupted by the sound of barking, and they turned to watch the Alaunt hounds pacing solemnly across the bridge. The bridge barked at them and Sicarius barked gruffly back.

Belial turned to Azhure. "Where did these hounds come from?"

"They, ah, seem to belong to me, Belial. I hope you will not mind their presence. They are well trained and will cause no trouble. I will tell you their story once I have changed into some clean clothes."

Belial belatedly realised that he had kept the two women standing in the gateway for far too long, but, just as he was about to usher them into Sigholt, Jack stepped up. Jack had recognised the hounds instantly, and a look of understanding had passed between himself and Sicarius.

"You are Azhure?" Jack asked, and Belial hastened to introduce them. Azhure shook the hand that Jack offered, and the Sentinel smiled at her genially, thinking he understood her. Unlike the other Sentinels, all of whom had hardly ever conversed with the Prophet who had recruited them, Jack knew the Prophet well and had been entrusted with many secrets.

But there were yet deeper secrets to.the Prophecy, and Azhure was one of them.

Long Live the King!

Faraday's hopes were dying as fast as the man before her. She stood behind Judith as the Queen leaned over the prone form of her husband, trying to lend the woman the strength of her presence and friendship. Beside her stood Embeth, now Judith's senior lady-in-waiting. Faraday exchanged a glance with Embeth. Neither could do anything to ease Judith's grief.

Priam's bedchamber was quiet and lit only by a few tapers. Incense smouldered out of sight on a high shelf. On the other side of the bed Jayme, assisted as always by Moryson, stood quietly. The Brother-Leader was wearing his full ceremonial vestments of office to mark this sombre occasion. Behind Jayme stood Borneheld, and Faraday's eyes met his briefly before she looked away, disgusted at what she could see in their depths. To the rear of the ornate gold and pink chamber stood several servants and courtiers, uselessly weeping, and one or two helpless physicians.

Faraday looked back at the King. Three weeks ago to the day Priam, ordinarily so hale and hearty, had begun to show evidence of madness. For three days he strode down the corridors of the palace, seeing demons and sorcerers in every shadow. Judith and sundry servants had followed him, pleading with Priam to let the physicians see him, pleading with him to rest, sleep. Perhaps it was simply stress, overwork.

But Priam had continued to pace the corridors, scarcely ever sleeping, spittle caking his stubbly chin.

His illness was crazy, thought Faraday despairingly. She had spent most of the past few weeks with Judith, supporting her as much as she could. Forcing her to sleep when she would wander after Priam. Trying to reassure her. Trying.

The physicians pronounced that the King was suffering from a severe form of brain heat which caused madness as the King's noddle sizzled. "It has been building awhile," they suggested, "and has only now boiled to the surface." They applied icepack after icepack to the King's brow, and leeches to his limbs and groin to drain away excess hot blood. They even considered wrapping the King in brandy-soaked bandages and leaving him in a dark room - but they had discarded that idea. The last nobleman to be treated with that particular remedy had died after a careless servant dropped his candle onto the spirit-soaked bandages. Nothing they'd suggested had worked, and the physicians were now forced to admit that they could do little.

Everyone shook their heads and sorrowed. Carlon and the surrounding districts mourned Priam's decline. And amidst all this sorrow and public shaking of heads came the despicable, rumours. If Priam had considered an alliance with the Forbidden, then it was because his mind was already addled. If Priam so thoughtlessly berated Borneheld, it was because he no longer knew right from wrong, friend from foe.

Jayme had been quick to seize these rumours and make them his own - Faraday wondered if they had been his all along.

"He has been struck by a miasma of the Forbidden," Jayme had ventured, and many had listened. "Their evil presence has stretched right into the heart of Carlon to implant the noxious notion of an alliance with them into Priam's mind."