"Indeed."

Not a t.i.tle that any man would dare to take in the Dominion. "You may. You may also explain what the subject of the wager that 1 have won for you was."

"Ah. That? A trifling thing, no more. Lord Isladar and I have, on many occasions, debated the proper use of magic and glamour. I believed that, for this meeting, he should use a binding spell that was more than merely physical; he believed that appearance would carry the day, as it has so often in his travels." Cortano's sideways glance was almost smug-if an expression so undignified could cross that Widan's face.

"Indeed," Lord Isladar said softly. "Cortano felt that you were of a finer mettle than most of the mortals I deal with. He was, in his suspicions, correct. You are not a trusting man, General."

"No." The General almost drew his sword; he wanted the comfort of its edge between him and this a.s.sociate of Cortano's. "Cortano," he said, his voice deceptively soft, "when this Lord uses the word 'mortal' in that fashion, what does he mean?"

"I mean," the subject of the question replied, "what you fear I do, General. There is a reason that we do not willingly walk in daylight." With a gesture that was sharp and final and curiously like the downward slash of long blade, Lord Isladar let fall the deception of which Cortano spoke.

Bathed in early moonlight, he grew an inch or two; his shoulders were less broad, his hands longer and finer. But it was his eyes that were striking, his eyes that were dangerous; they were a black without end. He smiled faintly, as Alesso di'Marente did draw his sword, and the smile was edged with the glimmering of sharp teeth. Unnatural teeth.

Alesso was a man of action. A man. The years when he had been locked within his father's protective harem and coddled with children's tales had long since pa.s.sed; but having been lived they left traces that time alone could not erase. He was not a religious man by the lights of the Radann, but he was a man who was entirely immersed in the culture of the Lord. He knew what he faced.

This creature was a servant of the Lord of Night.

"Cortano," Alesso asked softly, "what have you done?"

"I? Very little, General. But if you think that I had the power to summon this creature, you honor me perhaps a little too highly. I could not call Lord Isladar, and if I did, I could not hold him. He is of the Kialli among the demon-kin, and the mages who could bind and use the Kialli have long since crumbled to dust in the annals of our poor history."

"But they did exist," Isladar said. It surprised Alesso, to hear him say it; he was not a creature that the General would have thought willing to speak of a weakness or a loss, however far in the past it might be.

Almost as if the words were spoken, the creature smiled thinly. "I am not like the kin in many things, General Alesso di'Marente, and it would do you well to remember this. If mortals live brief lives, if their lives are tainted by the concerns of the merely mortal, they are not less dangerous for their lack of years."

"He is trying to tell you, in his oblique way, that the kin are both ruthless and arrogant, and that he feels their arrogance toward mortals is unwarranted in many cases."

"Thank you, Cortano," Isladar said dryly. "But I believe that you requested my presence for a reason."

"Indeed."

"And that reason?"

Cortano did not choose to answer the question; he turned his appraising glance upon Alesso, and Alesso felt as if he stood unshaded beneath the glare of the high sun. "Alesso, this creature is not the only one of his kin to walk our lands in recent years. He is not the only one who will walk our lands in the future, and he is not the most powerful, although I would say he is the most dangerous."

"Thank you, Cortano."

"Certainly the most easily flattered."

"Cortano."

"Very well. I told you that I had allies. These allies wish the Dominion to be a force and a power in the new world. But force and power or no, either you will rule it, or they will. Their time is coming; not even the foreign demons-" and he lingered over the word, as if appreciating an irony that was not immediately clear to the General, "-will be able to defeat the army they have begun to build."

"If 'they' are 'destined' to rule, what purpose will I serve?" Alesso's blade was steady. He was aware, as any man of power must be, that a man who had no purpose was usually a dead one.

"We are," Isladar said softly, "unprepared to deal with the Empire of Essalieyan in a suitable fashion at this point. We do not wish to alert our enemies to our presence until such a time as that alarm would do them no good.

"We are not yet at that stage." He paused, weighing his words, or so Alesso thought. "General, the man who rules this Dominion now is a man who has once declared war upon the Empire, no more and no less. He failed because he did not have the necessary tools-or the will-to carry a war to successful completion.

"We wish to see war carried to the Empire again, within the course of this year."

"Impossible."

"Is it? Impossible in your current state? Yes, I agree. The Tyr'agar could not lead an army to victory if it was handed to him. The clansmen are not loyal to him; his loss hurt him much in that regard. But we are prepared to offer you our dedicated, and our hidden, support.

"I am aware of what the words Lord of Night have come to mean in the Dominion," he added quietly.

"And you would do this just for the war?"

"No. In time, the worship of the Lord of Night must return to these lands. This will occur in any case; your choice this night does not affect that fact. But I a.s.sure you that the will of the priests will be suborned to the will of the Tyr'agar, if that man is a man of our choosing."

Alesso was silent for a long time. At last, he said, "And am I that man?" And he sheathed his sword.

"If you make wise choices, yes, you will be that and more. The Empire of Essalieyan is a land that is vast and more appropriate for the ministrations of the kin than the Dominion. We can make our treaties, General; that the Dominion will be free from the predation of the kin for so long as your blood rules."

There was a glittering in the eye of the demon that matched the glittering in the eye of the General; for a moment, only the two existed, and in the falling night, they did not look so distinct, so different.

Alesso thought, You are lying to me about everything but your need for this war. He smiled. Cautiously, he said, "Tell me, Lord Isladar. You speak of 'we' and 'our.' Who is this 'we'?"

"The Shining Court, General. Newly risen, and destined to be the council from which all power in this world is granted. Cortano di'Alexes is one of its founding members."

The Sword's Edge smiled. "You might become one of its most influential if you choose to support us."

"The clan Leonne will have to perish."

"Of course."

"Any interference in the politics of the Dominion, other than our own," and here, Alesso nodded to the Widan Cortano, "are expressly forbidden."

"Agreed. You will find that most of our number have little interest in human politics, except as it affects the eventual disposition of the humans in question." His smile was unpleasant.

"You and your kind will remain unseen until I have been installed as the Dominion's ruler. There must be no word, no hint, of your existence, or my part in it."

"Indeed."

"I will choose my own adviser or advisers, and they will be under my protection."

Silence. "If we feel the choice of adviser unwise-"

"You will live with it. It will be considered a part of the politics of the realm."

"Make your choice, General."

Ignoring the ambiguity of the reply, Alesso pressed on. "And I will want some proof that you are indeed capable of all that you have offered or implied."

"Of course."

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

Wittan, 426 AA The Tor Leonne.

It should not have surprised the Widan Sendari di'Marano, but it did. Alesso was a man who lived to surprise. Whether or not the beneficiaries of such pleasantries, Sendari thought, survived his little surprises was another matter entirely-and one not open to debate at this moment.

I intend to a.s.sa.s.sinate the clan Leonne and become Tyr'agar-but I would be happier to know that you stood at my side. The words still hung in the air between them, chased weakly by those that had followed: details, plans, logistics.

He should have known, though; Alesso rarely asked for the use of magery as a protective measure against unwanted eavesdroppers. He could be relatively certain that the Widan would not detect this use of magic; Sendari was, after all, one of the Sword set to watch for all signs of magic's use within the Tor Leonne, and was hardly likely to report himself.

Markaso di'Leonne, the Tyr'agar, very wisely chose not to trust the Sword's Edge; they were, he and Cortano, in almost every aspect, unalike, save in that they ruled their chosen domains. Because he did not trust the Sword's Edge, he ill-trusted the Sword of Knowledge, but no Tyr ruled who did not, at one time or another, employ the services of a mage; he used three, informing each of them in a slightly different fashion of the events they were to oversee and forbidding each from consulting with the others. Thus he attempted to trap those who might work against him in some fashion, however small.

The Widan, for their part, did their work without speaking to each other; it was wisest. The Widan were known across the Dominion for their unusual obsessions, their fixations on areas of knowledge that no true clansman would consider noteworthy. They were not always known for their ability to maintain the complexity of a lie, and Sendari, as his two compatriots, had decided it was wisest not to put oneself in a position where one would have to.

If one had the choice.

He turned to stare out at the lake, for it was by the lake that they now stood, the waters rippling in the fading wash of sinking sun and dusk breeze. They had climbed to this spot, or one much like it, when they had been younger men.

This time, as adviser to the Tyr, the climb was not so dangerous for the Widan; as General under the Tyr, even less so. But the lake held some of that moment's forbidden exhilaration-and fear. Just as, no doubt, Alesso had intended. He did very little without some forethought. "Do you remember the Festival of the Moon?" Alesso spoke softly, his gaze intent, his arms crossed and propped over a bent knee. The winds had added creases to his forehead and the corners of his eyes, and darkened his skin enough that the rainy season could not pale it. War had done the rest. Sendari nodded, almost solemn in reply. "Then you have been answered, as I have. Come, Sendari. You have Adano, and I, my own brother. But I want more for my sons-for my blood- than the name Marente, and the service to an increasingly distant kai. Why do you hesitate? You cannot love the clan Leonne."

"No more than you," the Widan replied, bristling slightly. "But you are talking about an act that has been attempted, several times, in the history of the Dominion- without success."

"We have allies that the nameless clans did not."

"Your Shining Court."

"The Shining Court."

"And you trust them?"

"Not at all. But I trust that they need me, and for the moment, that is enough. Let us take from them what we need."

"If we give them the Dominion, they will have no need of us."

"Indeed." The General smiled. "So we will not give them the Dominion."

"If, as you say," Sendari replied, his face tight with the effort of remaining expressionless, "the kin will be on our side, and within the Dominion, I do not see that we will have the choice."

"Think, Sendari. Let us wage war with the Empire; it will be a war that we can win, a war that we must win if I am to consolidate my rule. It will be a weak thing, at best. Essalieyan won the war that the Tyr brought against it, no? And we are still the Dominion, if diminished.

"Let us win, and not win, in the same fashion. There is a reason that the Shining Court fears the demon Kings and their followers. When we have won the lands that we need to win, and we have fulfilled our necessary function, might we not go to the demon Kings with a tale of how our own ranks were infiltrated by the kin? By the men and women who call themselves Allasakaru I a.s.sure you, the Imperial court will listen. Do not forget the events of sixteen years past."

"We do not, now, have a good report of those events."

"Sendari, enough. Either you will support me, or you will not."

"And if not?"

"Then not," Alesso replied, his brows creasing into a single line. "Or would you like me to offer you threats that our friendship renders meaningless?"

Silence, then. It was Sendari who turned away, as always, to stare out upon the waters of the Tor Leonne. "No; if we argue, we will argue in earnest, as we always do. Do not make mock threats."

"I do not want to do this without you," Alesso said quietly. "We have been through much together. Come. Be my Widan. Be my eyes and ears within the Sword of Knowledge; be my conduit into the Shining Court. I do not have your skill or your ability-no one who has not pa.s.sed the Sword's test does. But I need both. And unlike most men, I have access to a Widan I can trust. Sendari- would you not be the Sendari-the man who founds his line?"

"Yes," the Widan said, but distantly, indistinctly.

"Then what is wrong?"

The Widan's silence was long and painful, but it was unexpected. Therefore it took Alesso a moment to recognize it for what it was. His face darkened; he rose, taking his foot from its perch on the smooth rock. "I offer you an opportunity that most of the men situated within the Tor Leonne would kill for, and you think not of the offer itself, but of her." He turned, folding his hands behind his back; Sendari knew that he was on the verge of walking away.

But they were like brothers in their anger; bound by things invisible that were also strong. "She's dead, Alesso."

"Her daughter still rules your life. Still." "She is married to the kai Leonne. Part of the clan Leonne. What you speak of-it would be her death. You would no more consign your own to death than I."

"I would consign a married daughter to the fate of her clan," the General replied heatedly. "I would not throw away the opportunity to rule the Tor for the sake of a mere girl."

"And that is why you are General, and I am merely Widan. Alesso-I will not speak against you, and you know this. But to act against her, to be the hand that kills her-I cannot do it."

Without another word, General Alesso di'Marente walked away, his steps a little too loud to be as measured and as cold as he would have liked. Sendari turned back to the lake. They had been friends many, many years; they knew each other well.

The argument was not yet over.

She wanted to be liked. It surprised Diora, just how much of a hunger it was, how much of a need. Made her acutely aware of the fact that she had never felt the need before. Even when the Serra Fiona had come into her father's harem, she had not been displaced; what she needed, she received.

Behind the screens of the kai Leonne's harem, her world became five women, and then, quickly, four; Samanta en'Leonne alone rejected what she attempted, time and again, to offer, choosing instead to focus the force of her attention upon their mutual husband. She heard the fear and the dislike in Samanta's voice, and she accepted both as the truth that they were.

But in Serena, she found the voice of an august authority, a woman whose knowledge of Ser Illara's likes and dislikes, and the roots of either, was invaluable; in Faida's voice, she found happiness and acceptance; in Deirdre's a cautious optimism, and in Ruatha's, anger, more anger, and fear not for herself, but for those whom she made her world.

She had given up on Samanta quickly, but she could not give up on Ruatha, although time and again she was ungently rebuffed for her attempts at building some bridge between them.

"Na'dio," Serena said one day, almost two weeks after Diora had been introduced to both harem and husband. "Ruatha is a wild child, a girl who was too hurt by her previous owners to be wisely brought here. Bluntly, my dear, she was a mistake. I've noticed that you've decided to let Samanta be; might you not also leave Ruatha to her own devices?"

"I can't," Diora said quietly, responding to the familiar diminutive that Serena alone seemed comfortable using. "Why, Na'dio?"

"I don't really know." The younger woman turned restlessly from the small table upon which sweet water sat. "I think it is because Samanta-Samanta loves Illara in her fashion. She is like, very like, serafs I have observed; she thinks of him as a partner, as a husband. She is not friendly -either to you, or to me-because she feels she does not need to be; she came here by his favor, and she retains it; she is beautiful, Serena."

"Yes. She is."

"But I was taught differently, I think." Diora rose, restive; she found her Northern harp and began to play it almost absently, a balm for restless fingers, restless spirit. "I was taught that a husband's interest is transient; that if his interest is in beauty alone, then his interest will wane, like the moon-but it will never return. To be a partner, one must be an equal; equal to the politics that a husband will face, equal to the enemies, subtle and obvious, greater and lesser.

"If you are unfortunate and you have a husband who desires the advice of no such wife, it is still unwise to place one's faith in favoritism, unless that is all one has.

"That is all, Serena, that Samanta has, and I see the time coming-I hear it in Illara's voice- when she will not even have that."

"Which tells me much about you, Diora. But it does not answer my question."