And Eduardo hesitated. "There is one other thing that I desire, Alesso."

Alesso di'Marente was not a patient man-but he'd learned, over time, that waiting had its value. "It is not," the General said, "the accepted practice to add demands to negotiations once they have been concluded. Our swords are drawn."

"I'm aware of that," Eduardo replied. "But the lands were a political matter, and this is a personal one of lesser import."

Alesso waited, and Eduardo was amused to see the cool black of his eyes, the absolute stillness in his kneeling stance. Between them, the smooth, cut surface of the flat wooden disk lay, waiting the crossed blade strokes of the men who had made their oaths. Only when each side of the bargain had been fulfilled would the disk be destroyed-given to fire, that the Lord might bear witness that obligations had been fulfilled, and honor satisfied.

The silence stretched; Eduardo realized, with some annoyance, that Alesso had no intention of breaking it. And General Alesso di'Marente was, of the two, not the ranking man; he was General, Eduardo was Tyr'agnate. Eduardo had merely to speak, and the Tyr'agar would have this man's head-and worse-on the poles that lay evenly s.p.a.ced on the roadside that led to the Tor Leonne.

But still. He had played his game, and Alesso was correct; men did not usually interrupt this final avowal with requests, however trivial. He nodded; Alesso returned that nod.

"Ser Illara kai di'Leonne's wife."

"What of her?"

"You will, no doubt, destroy the harem and the children in it."

The General did not reply; the answer was obvious.

"She has borne, and bears, no children."

A nod.

"What she did not bear for the kai of a doomed line, she will bear for me. I want her."

"She is not mine," Alesso replied evenly, "to barter away."

"Nor is Averda."

Silence.

Tyr'agnate Eduardo di'Garrardi frowned slightly; he had hoped to be able to hide his desire, or at least to cloak it more appropriately. Without speaking, he lowered his sword to his knees. His meaning, he hoped, was clear.

It surprised the General. Angered him slightly, although Alesso di'Marente was not a difficult man to anger. Nor a wise one, unless one had power and position. Eduardo had both.

And the fact that the General did not immediately capitulate told him one of the many things he desired to know: That Widan Sendari par di'Marano was one of the conspirators. Later meetings would confirm this. "I will... confer... with my confederates," the General said at last. "Although I will say this: you are not the only man to ask." He smiled.

Eduardo did not. "I warn you," he said softly, "that 1 am not to be toyed with."

"It was a personal request," Alesso replied softly. "Sword's Blood," was the answer, "is my personal horse."

Answer enough.

Two weeks later, Alesso di'Marente returned. He agreed to the conditions set out by the Tyr'agnate, and together they placed the wooden medallions-one for the clan of Garrardi, and one for the General-on the stone block. Alesso di'Marente made the first cut on each, which was appropriate; Tyr'agnate Eduardo di'Garrardi made the crosscut, sealing their oaths, and binding them together by those oaths in the eyes of the Lord of the Sun.

The waiting had been hard. And fruitful.

Widan Sendari di'Marano was worried. Habit kept the worry from his face, but the lines etched around the corners of his eyes had grown deeper these past few days; the winds scoured him.

It was not over yet, and they both knew it; now was not the time to take undue risks. Yet he hesitated to correct the General who had been a friend most of his adult life. Hesitated, in fact, to expose the subject to the sun's harsh light.

Which was not the same, of course, as refusing to think about it at all. And it was dusk; the sun's light was lessening by measured degree. "Tyr'agnate Eduardo di'Garrardi arrived this afternoon."

A seraf-the Widan's and not the General's-bent briefly over his empty cup, filling it in a single fluid motion. Fiona's choices were almost without flaw, and this lovely young girl-a serving girl, to be sure, and not an ornament to a powerful man's harem, but graceful and delicate nonetheless-brought him a measure of quiet as she saw to their needs without once interrupting their discourse.

"I heard," Alesso replied, staring moodily out into the perfect green of well-watered and tended wilderness. That Eduardo had arrived late meant little; he did arrive, and his name and t.i.tle were worth the price that he demanded in payment. Or it had been. Alesso.

The Pavilion of the Dusk exposed the sun's fall to the eyes of those who were privileged enough to sit upon its platform. Tonight, the privileged numbered two: Alesso and Sendari.

"He looks well," the older man continued. "And Sword's Blood was the only topic of cerdan interest for two hours after the stallion was stabled."

Alesso shrugged.

Sendari almost allowed himself to be put off. Almost. "Have you heard that he has entered himself as a combatant for the Lord's trial?"

"Yes." He paused, setting the evening cup aside on the panels of simple wood beneath their cushions. "Sendari."

"Not yet," Sendari replied simply.

"Perhaps."

"If we had the Sword, we could proceed with less caution. It is not ours."

"Do not be so certain."

Widan Sendari di'Marano turned a pale shade of gray in the lamplight and the moonlight of the coming night. The Lady's thoughts were upon him early, and he could not shake their darkness, or his apprehension. "They failed," he said simply, choosing two syllables that might not carry the tremor in his voice.

Alesso said nothing, but gazed out again into the woods. The crickets were already singing in a mult.i.tude of different voices. Did they carry the word of the wind? Sendari thought he felt its chill. As they sat in uncomfortable silence, Alesso di'Marente lifted his chin. "Your seraf," he told his oldest friend. "What of her?"

"Send her away." Not a request. Not a demand. Sendari knew Alesso well enough to take the warning as the offering it was.

"Alaya." He motioned quickly; a fold of his robes brushed the edge of his evening cup, unbalancing it. Before he reacted, she did, catching it and saving its contents. The waters of the Tor were highly prized. He smiled, although the smile was empty of even a trace of his usual warmth. Taking the cup from her hands, he bid her depart. "Take the small lamp," he added. Fiona en'Marano would not be pleased if the darkness robbed her of this particular seraf.

Nor would he; she had been costly. They sat together, in silence, a woman's unmentioned name between them. And then Sendari saw what Alesso's sharper eyes had seen first; a shadow that moved counter to the other shadows that evening produced. Alesso di'Marente stiffened, but he did not bow; nor did he arm himself. He had chosen to retreat to the pavilion without escort of any type, but he was capable enough with the sword that he wore when he chose to unsheathe it.

The shadow resolved into the heavily cloaked form of a man with a slightly awkward gait. Not a seraf; no one who had come to the Tor for this festival would deign to bring such an obviously damaged man, although many clans maintained those who had suffered injuries in their service otherwise. And not a seraf, Sendari thought, by the fine cut of the cloth that he did wear, although that cloth only revealed itself as the distance between the moving man and the seated ones grew smaller.

The stranger bowed, and he bowed low, pulling back the hood of his cloak.

They faced a man of deceptive height. His hair was pale in the moonlight, gold with a hint of copper highlights that might well have been reflection of their lamps-had their lamps carried an orange flame. His skin was smooth and perfect and white, his lips neither too thin nor too full. In all, when his limp was not so obvious, he was not uncomely-or he would not have been, save for his eyes.

They were utterly black.

"General Alesso di'Marente," the visitor said, bowing slightly awkwardly.

The General nodded, affecting a geniality of expression that did not reach his eyes or the tone of his voice. "Lord Isladar." He lifted the evening cup on the platform at his side, and said, "Would you care to join us?"

The demon's smile was a brief flash of acknowledgment-of both Alesso's t.i.tle and the threat that was so gracefully offered it might have been mistaken for hospitality. By a foolish man, and Isladar was neither; the waters of the Tor Leonne were such that they did not suffer the touch of the kin. "I have come to offer the apologies of the Shining Court," he said. He made no move to join the two who sat upon the platform.

"Apologies?"

"We are aware that we have left your court in disarray. The internal politics of the Shining Court

should never have reached this far. and I believe I have some personal responsibility in that regard."

"I see."

Of all the Allasakari-summoned creatures that he had met, this one fascinated the Widan most.

For the creatures were not, once you disregarded their appearance, so different from clansmen who were confident in their own power-they did not show their weakness, they did not trust each other, and they attempted to expand their holdings.

All save this one. He apologized with diffidence, when expedient; he made no display of either his power or his ruthlessness, and he did not choose to belittle his subordinates when the occasion was appropriate. At least, Sendari amended, he had not done so while Alesso, he or any of the human members of the Shining Court were present.

Secrets were always dangerous.

"There is one other matter." Isladar bowed again-a bad sign. "Yes?"

"At the personal request of a member of your entourage, Lord Etridian chose to venture into the

heart of our enemies' territory."

Sendari frowned slightly, and glanced at Alesso; the General was now quite stiff, although the muscles of his face still held the rictus of its former geniality."There, he attempted to kill Ser Valedan kai di'Leonne.""And?""He failed.""I see." No movement of muscle; no falling of shoulders, no relaxing of jaw; Alesso had expected this.

"Perhaps. But it was a foolish risk on the part of Lord Etridian, for he chose to present himself to the a.s.sembled gathering of the Crowns, their heirs, the presiding rulers of the Three Churches, the Magi and The Ten."

"He what?'

A fair brow rose slightly at the tone that colored the single word. Sendari thought he saw a slight quirk of upward movement in the perfect mouth; he could not be certain that it was not a trick of the light, and he dared no magery here. The kin were sensitive to its use and p.r.o.ne to overreact to a spell of any nature.

"He waited beneath the floor of the Great Chamber of the Crowns. They had gathered, in a.s.sembly, to pa.s.s judgment upon the Annagarian hostages."

Alesso did not like to be reminded of failure, and the hostages had been both an expensive and b.l.o.o.d.y exercise that had borne no fruit at all. He did not understand the Northerners; it irked him. He thought they might not go to war over the deaths of their nonkin-but to let them lie, unanswered, when reprisal was obvious and accessible- that was a sign of weakness of spirit that he could not, did not, fathom. "And the judgment they pa.s.sed?"

Isladar raised a fair brow at the tone of the voice. "King Reymalyn chose to spare the life of Ser Valedan di'Leonne, in recognition of the fact that the crimes against the hostages were not committed by his clan."

"That was always a possibility," the Widan said softly. "Ser Valedan," the demon continued, "refused the offer."

"He what?"

"He came, he said, as a leader-and as a leader, he refused to allow those who put their faith and trust in his ability to face an end that he would not."

"This story," the General said, his eyes narrowed, "goes no further." He did not look to the Widan, but Sendari knew an order when he heard it; he did not bridle. Because he knew that those clansmen with no understanding of the subtleties of politics would find much in this brief tale to admire in a boy thought too weak of blood to be worthy of anything more than the life of a Northern hostage.

"Wise," Isladar said. "But I stray. It appears that at least one Tyr was present in the Great Chamber." Both men stiffened. "And he?"

"Tyr'agnate Ramiro di'Callesta." Alesso's lips whitened at the name. "I see."

"He gave his brother to the Northerners," Sendari said softly, although it was not a defense of that most dangerous of men. "And we did not think to apprise him of the... situation."

"Lord Etridian attacked when the Callestan lord entered the room. Unfortunately, he failed." "Failed? He is one of your much vaunted kinlords!"

"There have always been reasons why we wished the Dominion to start this war," Isladar replied coldly. "Lord Etridian's attack against the Priests of the enemy was successful. His attack against the boy was not."

"Why?"

"The internal politics of the kin of the Shining Court has a very long and very unfortunate reach." He frowned. "I am permitted to tell you that he was stopped, not by the humans, or the half-G.o.ds who play at humanity, but by a member of the Shining Court. Both players felt it was safe to expose themselves to the scrutiny of the gathered a.s.sembly." It was clear, from his icy expression, that Lord Isladar did not concur.

Nor did Sendari.

"The foreign Kings will no doubt infer that the Anna-garian court consorts with demons."

"No, Alesso," Sendari lifted his evening cup and touched his lips to its rim. "They will infer that the Allasakari are at work in the Dominion. That they control it."

The two men exchanged a long glance that said much. Allasakari, demons-would it make a difference? The Essalieyanese had already been threatened once by the kin-and it had been a close thing, by all Annagarian accounts, and a darker one than the Dominion had ever faced. The Crowns had once turned a blind eye to the affairs of their Southern neighbors, and during that time, the followers of the Lord of Night had grown in strength and numbers, seeding the land with creatures that were best remembered as tales to frighten children. But after the events of sixteen years past, neither Alesso nor Sendari believed that the Crowns would turn so blind an eye again.

Of course, neither Alesso nor Sendari had believed that the Northerners would be so weak of blood and resolve that the hostages' fate would not already be sealed.

"We are not in position to go to war against the Empire," the General said coolly. "Obviously,

Lord Etridian was unaware of this."

Isladar made no reply. He was not a creature to belabor the obvious. He bowed. "Until the Festival of the Sun," he said quietly.

"When," the General said softly, "will your kin be ready to place themselves at the disposal of my army as, you no doubt remember, we agreed?"