"Ah," the voice said, fading. "You continue to learn. But so do I. Do not hold your life too dear, Anne Dare. It will not belong to you for long."

Then the shadows were gone, and the glade was filled with perfect moonlight.

"He's right," a woman's voice said. "You do learn. There are more diverse powers in the moon than darkness."

Anne turned, but it wasn't one of the women she had seen before. This one had hair as silvery as the lunar light and skin as pale. She wore a black gown that flashed here and there with jewels and a mask of black ivory that left her mouth uncovered.

"How many of you are there?" Anne asked.

"There are four," the woman replied. "You have met two of my sisters."

"The Faiths."

"He named to you but a few of our names."

"I've never heard of you by any names until now."

"It has been long since we moved in the world. Most have forgotten us."

"Who was that? Who was he?"

"He is the enemy," she said.

"The Briar King?"

She shook her head. "The Briar King is not the enemy, though many of you will die by his hand. The Briar King is a part of the way things were and the way things are. The one you just spoke to is not."

"Then who was he?"

"A mortal, still. A thing of flesh and blood, but becoming more. Like the world, he is changing. If he finishes changing, then everything we know will be swept aside."

"But who is he?" Anne persisted.

"We do not know his mortal name. But the possibility of him has been arriving for millennia."

Anne closed her eyes, anger welling in her breast. "You're as useless as your sisters."

"We're trying to help, but by our nature we are restricted."

"Yes, your sister explained that, at least," Anne replied. "But I found it just as unhelpful as anything else any of you have told me."

"Everything has its seasons, Anne. The moon goes through its cycle each month, and each year brings spring, summer, autumn, winter. But the world has larger seasons, stronger tides. Flowers that bloom in Prismen are dormant in Novmen. It has been so since the world was young.

"And yet the last time this season came around, the cycle itself was nearly broken, a balance was lost. The wheel creaks on a splintered axle, and possibilities exist that never did before. One of those possibilities is him him. Not a person, at first, just a place, a throne if you will, never sat before but waiting to be filled. And now someone has come along to fill it. But we do not yet know him-we see only what you saw, his shadow."

"Is he the one behind the murder of my sisters and father? Did he send the knights to the coven?"

"Ultimately, perhaps. He certainly wants you dead."

"But why?"

"He does not want you to be queen."

"Why?" Anne repeated. "What threat am I to him?"

"Because there are two two new thrones," the Faith said, softly. "Two." new thrones," the Faith said, softly. "Two."

Anne woke on the deck of the ship. Someone had slipped a blanket over her. She lay there a moment, fearing that if she straightened, the wave-sickness would return, but after a moment she realized that she felt well.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes. It was morning, the sun just peeking over the marine horizon. Austra was at the railing a few yards away, conversing in low tones with Cazio. She was smiling, and when Cazio reached to touch her hand, she went all rosy.

Silly girl, Anne thought angrily. Anne thought angrily. Can't she see there's no sincere love in him? He's just a boy, playing games Can't she see there's no sincere love in him? He's just a boy, playing games.

But why should Austra's foolishness bother her? After all, if he was focused on Austra, perhaps he'd leave her her alone. That certainly would be for the best. alone. That certainly would be for the best.

Still, Austra was her friend, and she had to watch out for her.

So she pulled herself to her feet using the rail. There was no renewal of her nausea. She felt well, at least physically.

"Ah, she's alive after all," Cazio said, glancing in her direction.

Austra jumped guiltily, and her blush deepened. Anne suddenly wondered if things had gone farther than a bit of hand-touching. While she was sick and asleep, perhaps?

She wouldn't have to ask. Austra would volunteer any information eventually. Or-maybe not. There had been a time when they shared everything, but they had grown apart. Anne knew it was her own fault, for hiding things from Austra. Perhaps Austra was getting her revenge.

"Do you feel better?" Austra asked. "You were missing from your bed, and I couldn't find you at all. I thought you had fallen overboard. Finally I saw you sleeping here, and brought a blanket to keep you warm."

"That was kind of you," Anne said. "I felt less sick out here. And altogether better now."

"That's good," Cazio said. "You've been a bit of a bore."

"Which makes our company perfectly matched," Anne replied.

Cazio opened his mouth to answer, but something behind her got his attention, and his brow furrowed. She turned to see what it was.

When she saw it was Captain Malconio, her jaw tightened.

"Well," he said. "You seem to be feeling better. The dead have risen."

"Not all of them," Anne said coldly. "Some remain quite dead."

Malconio's eyes flashed something that might have been anger or chagrin, it was hard to tell.

"Casnara, I'm sorry that you lost a friend back there. But I was never hired to fight a battle, only to give you passage." He leveled his gaze at Cazio, and her uncertainty about his mood vanished. Malconio was angry, and he had been before she ever said anything.

"In fact," the captain went on, "I was never let in on the fact that there was danger of any sort involved."

"Of course not," Cazio retorted. "I know better than to rely upon either honor or bravery from you, Malconio."

Malconio snorted. "And I know as well not to rely on sense, judgment, or gratitude from you. Or from your friends, I see. If we had delayed casting off another instant, my ship would have been overrun. Even if we hadn't all been killed, we would have been trapped in dock for twice ninedays, settling the legalities. As far as I can see, I've saved all your lives, and now I'm wondering why I shouldn't throw you overboard."

"Because," Cazio said, "If you try, I will acquaint Caspator with your gullet."

"You're making my decision easier, Cazio."

"Ah, by Diuvo stop it, you two," z'Acatto rasped, limping around the base of the mainsail. "Neither of you could lay a hand on the other, and you know it, so spare us all your childish threats."

Malconio nodded his head toward the swordmaster. "How have you put up with him all of these years?"

"By staying drunk," z'Acatto grunted. "But if I'd had the both of you around, I'd have had to find stronger drink. Which reminds me-is there any of that Gallean stuff left?"

"You already know each other?" Austra asked, her gaze switching from z'Acatto to the captain to Cazio.

"Hardly," z'Acatto said. "But they are brothers."

"Brothers?" Austra gasped.

Austra's surprise mirrored Anne's own, but she could see the resemblance now.

"No brother of mine would abandon the family honor," Cazio said evenly.

"In what way have I abandoned the family honor?" Malconio asked. "By leaving that rotting hulk of a house to you?"

"You sold off the country estate to buy a ship," Cazio said. "Land that's been in our family since the Hegemony held sway. You sold it for this this." He flapped the back of his hand at the ship.

"There was no profit to be gained in the land, Cazio, nor had there been in a generation. I had no mind to laze around Avella and pick swordfights for a living, either-that role you most adequately filled. I've done well as a merchant. I own four vessels, and soon enough I'll have my own estates, built by my own hands. You cling to the Chiovattio past, brother. I represent our future."

"That's a pretty speech," Cazio allowed. "Do you practice it in front of a looking glass?"

Malconio started to reply, rolled his eyes, placed his hands on his hips, and smiled sardonically at Anne.

"Marry him and make his life miserable, won't you?" he said.

Anne drew herself up. "You presume far too much," she said, "even in jest. You are like your brother in that, if in nothing else."

"Thank Diuvo that's the extent of it."

"You should be so lucky as to be like your brother," Austra exploded. "He's a valiant fighter. We would be dead ten times over if it weren't for him."

"And if it weren't for me, me," Malconio said," you would be dead only one time, which, I think, would suffice."

Cazio lifted his finger and seemed about to add something, but his brother waved him off.

"Z'Acatto's right-this is useless. I should have known better than to take my brother on ship, much less his friends, but now I have. What's done is done, so, to the heart of the matter-who were those men that were pursuing you?"

"I thought your business with us was limited to our passage," Anne said. "Why this sudden curiosity about our enemies?"

"For two reasons, casnara. The first is that I am now connected in their minds with you you. I have an enemy I never sought to offend. The second is that we are presently being followed by a rather fast ship, and I very much suspect that it contains your friends from the docks at z'Espino."

CHAPTER FIVE.

ALIS B BERRYE.

MAJESTY?"

Muriele looked up. It was the young man-at-arms whom Sir Fail had stationed in her antechamber.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Someone is knocking for admittance."

Muriele rubbed her eyes. She hadn't heard.

"See who it is."

"Yes, Majesty."

He vanished into her receiving room while she stared nervously at the concealed door. Though it seemed clear enough now that the assassin had entered through the front, she wasn't as sure he had left that way. The door was invisible, if one did not know it was there, but given sufficient time and the knowledge that it existed, the latch could certainly be found.

Until she could be sure he wasn't still there, hiding in the walls, she would never be comfortable being wholly alone.

The man-at-arms returned. "It is the praifec Hespero, Majesty," he announced.

"Is he alone?"

"Yes, Majesty."

"Very well." She sighed. "Admit him."

A moment later the dark-gowned praifec entered her chambers and bowed. "Majesty," he said.

Muriele had always felt there was something missing about the praifec, but she had never been able to say what it was. He was a man of intelligence, certainly, and even of passion when it came to matters of state and religion. He was well-spoken to the point of being glib. And yet somehow-even in his most impassioned argument-it seemed to her that he wasn't entirely present, that there was some basic quality that he was counterfeiting, that he didn't actually have. When she focused on any particular quality of his, however, it seemed genuine.

It could be, she decided, that she simply didn't like him, and what was missing was merely her acceptance of him.

"To what do I owe this visit, praifec?" she asked.

"To my natural concern for your well-being," he replied.

She lifted an eyebrow. "Please explain," she directed.