Faldain wrapped himself around Tobeszijian's leg and would not turn it loose. When Suchin knelt beside the little prince and tried to pry his hands away so he could put gloves on the boy's hands and boots on his small feet, Faldain let out a mighty screech of rage and clung even harder.

Thiatereika, looking adorable in a cloak of blue velvet trimmed with ermine, her hair now tied back with a ribbon, and dainty fur-lined boots on her feet, went running off into the playroom. "Thia," Tobeszijian called after her. "Stay here."

"I want my Su-Su," she said stubbornly.

He had no idea what she was talking about, and let her go. Suchin was still on his knees, struggling to exchange Faldain's slippers for boots. The boy was resisting, kicking his feet and turning red-faced with anger. "No!" he shouted.

Tobeszijian was a man who waged wars, decreed policy, feasted, and hunted. He played with his children more than did many men or kings, but until now he'd had no idea what was entailed in putting clothing on a squirming, rebellious child. To his eyes, it looked as difficult as bridling a wild horse. "In Thod's name, hurry, man," he said impatiently to Suchin. "They'll need a change of clothing as well."

"Aye, sire," Suchin said breathlessly as he succeeded in getting the second boot on. Faldain rolled onto his stomach and began crawling away as fast as he could. Tobeszijian let Suchin chase the child and instead went to one of the cupboards and opened it. He pulled out items of clothing at random, surprised at how small they were, and how finely made. Frowning, Tobeszijian looked in vain for st.u.r.dy clothing suitable for travel. Had they no hardspun, no leggings, no - "Here, sire," Suchin said, reappearing with two cups of eldin silver and necklaces of ribbon twisted with gold wire from which pendants of bard crystal hung.

Tobeszijian's frown deepened. "We cannot be hampered by frippery. St.u.r.dy clothing, man! Quickly!"

"They have none, sire." Suchin pressed the cups into Tobeszijian's hands. "But these the queen held important. I'll be quick."

Faldain headed off into the playroom in search of Thiatereika, calling "Ei, ei, ei!" as loud as he could.

Tobeszijian stared, marveling at how quickly they seemed to forget the danger they'd just survived.

The cups he held were of excellent crafting, engraved with flowers and the faces of animals, but they were of no use to him. He tossed them on the floor while Suchin stuffed items into a small cloak that he twisted into an ill-made bundle. Thiatereika appeared in the doorway, her eyes enormous. "My papa!"

she called, whimpering. She was clutching a dirty rag doll to her chest. "Su-Su is scared. My papa, come!"

Suchin hurried over to her, slipping one of the bard crystal pendants over her head and tucking it beneath her cloak. She twisted away from him and stamped her foot.

"My papa!" she shouted. "Come!"

Tobeszijian went to her and put his large hand on her curls. "Hush, sweet. We're going in just a moment."

She shied away from his hand and began to cry, pointing at the other room. Puzzled by what could upset her in there when the dead men in the hallway had not made her blink, Tobeszijian looked inside the playroom. He saw smoke curling out through the front grille of the yellow and blue tiled stove standing in one corner. The nursery was normally a sunny place, with walls painted in shades of yellow, green, and pink. Painted vines and animals and cherubs adorned the ceiling and climbed down the corners of the walls. Strangely, the air felt icy cold, as though all the windows had been thrown open and the fire in thestove had gone out. But even if the latter had happened, the stove should have continued to radiate stored heat for a long time. The smoke was still pouring out, curling straight down to the floor and toward the doorway, where Tobeszijian stood, staring at it. It flowed around his ankles, and he felt immediately chilled to the bone. He stepped back quickly, and realized then that it wasn't smoke at all, but instead a black mist that roiled and curled and seemed to be searching for something. He saw it pause at the doorway near him. Tendrils of the stuff curled up as though exploring, then flowed on through the room in a straight line, aiming itself at the corridor where the corpses lay.

Wide-eyed, Tobeszijian stared at it, suddenly breathing harder than when he'd been fighting. There was more of the mist now, filling the doorway and curling around his ankles again. He retreated a second time, then glimpsed Faldain standing inside the center of the playroom next to the mist. Sucking his thumb, the child stared solemnly at the murky flow of evil.

Tobeszijian's heart lurched in his chest. Pushing Thiatereika back against the wall, he waded through the mist, wincing as his feet seemed to freeze inside his boots. He grabbed Faldain up and carried him out of the playroom. By the time he'd stepped out of the mist again he was shuddering violently, and gritted his teeth to keep from moaning at the pain.

Suchin wailed his prayers and backed against the tall, square bed that the children shared. He drew a circle on his chest with a shaking hand. The mist flowed through the bedchamber, curling away from where the silver cups lay on the floor. For Tobeszijian, this confirmed the mist's evil. Nonkind could not cross running water. It could not touch salt or eldin silver, the purest grade possible. He wondered who was directing the mist, and why. Was it Bork, the Believer out in the guardhouse? Or were other Gantese agents lurking in the many pa.s.sages of the palace?

Dry-mouthed, Tobeszijian realized he could not tarry here much longer. Clearly something out there sensed that Nereisse was dead. She must have been protecting the household, holding these forces back with the last remnants of her waning strength.

Premonition crawled across the back of Tobeszijian's neck, making him shiver. He gestured at Suchin, then caught sight of the bundle in the servant's hands and realized it would not do.

He went to Thiatereika and stripped off her cloak. "That bundle, quickly!" he said.

With a puzzled look, Suchin opened it. Tobeszijian pulled out a gown lined with the softest belly fur of snow-hare. He yanked it down over Thiatereika's head, pulling her arms through the sleeves while she protested in a m.u.f.fled voice. When her head popped through the neck, she was scowling.

"I can put on my clothes by myself!" she declared.

Not paying attention, Tobeszijian crammed another gown on over her clothing. It was a tight fit, and she fussed about it until Tobeszijian snapped his fingers at her in admonition. He tied her cloak back on and drew up her hood firmly to conceal both her hair and her pointed ears. Her face was streaked with tears, and her eyes looked tired and puffy. Already this morning she'd been through too much. His heart ached with the knowledge that he must submit her to a great deal more.

By now Suchin had succeeded in wrestling an extra pair of hosen and another tunic onto Faldain, who was fighting him about the boots again. Tobeszijian helped the old man, holding Faldain still so Suchin could finish dressing him. Suchin slipped the second bard crystal necklace around Faldain's chubby neck and tucked it inside his tunics. "For luck, little prince," the old man whispered.

"I'm hot, my papa," Thiatereika declared. She waved her rag doll. "Su-Su is hot too. I don't want to wear this-" Tobeszijian scooped her into his arms along with Faldain, settling a child on each hip, and headed out, with Suchin crowding his heels. The mist filled the entire corridor in front of the nursery.

Suchin whimpered with fear. "There is no way to avoid wading through it, sire." "Wait," Tobeszijian commanded. Juggling children, he drew his sword and plunged the tip of Mirengard into the black mist.

The blade glowed white and silver. The mist parted, curling swiftly away from the steel. Quickly, Tobeszijian walked through.

Behind him, Suchin cried out and stumbled, then barreled past Tobeszijian. "The evil is with us," Suchin wailed, running toward the stairs. "The evil is here!" Thiatereika began to whimper, and Tobeszijian glared at the old man. "Be quiet, you fool!" he said.

Suchin fell as silent as if he'd been strangled.

The mist as yet seemed to have taken no notice of the living. It headed for the two corpses lying on the b.l.o.o.d.y carpet and began to twist and coil about them. When a column of roiling darkness started rising from the back of the nearest body, Tobeszijian's eyes widened in horror.

He could feel the tingle on his skin and the crawly, itching sensation that told him magic was being used.

Yet darkness was not supposed to be able to enter the palace like this. There were safeguards and spell locks designed to protect it. But Nereisse was dead, and the Chalice was gone. What remained to power the spell locks?

He was thinking like a fool, refusing to accept what was being demonstrated before him. He remembered his promise to himself that Muncel would not get away with this. And now in his heart he made it a vow. Muncel would not win. Tobeszijian swore it on the hilt of his sword, on the heads of his frightened children, and on the memory of his dead wife.

When the corpse that still had its head twitched and began to climb to its feet, Thiatereika screamed, and Suchin wailed.

Tobeszijian turned around and headed down the stairs, his children in his arms.

He was not going to waste time fighting Nonkind.

The war had begun. He had lost the first skirmish, but Tobeszijian had never lost a war yet and did not intend to now.

"Hush, my children," he murmured to Faldain and Thiatereika. "You must be brave now. You must not cry."

They clung to him in fear, knowing instinctively that everything around them was wrong. Until today he had never heard Thiatereika cry except in temper. His children had known no unkindness, no fear, no distress. And he hated Muncel for ending their innocence so cruelly.

Suchin trotted at his heels, glancing back apprehensively over his shoulder as though he expected the animated corpse to come after them at any minute. "Sire," he said worriedly, his old voice shaking. "Sire, what is to become of us?" At the bottom of the stairs, Tobeszijian stopped and juggled Faldain in hisarms so he could put a hand on the old man's shoulder. "Suchin, you have been a true and faithful servant," he said, gazing down into the old man's tear-shiny eyes. "I free you from service, you and Gilda both. I ask only one last favor of you."

Suchin bowed his head, weeping openly now. "Anything, sire." Tobeszijian swallowed hard to clear the lump from his throat. "Bury my sweet lady in the grove that she loved so well. Make it a simple resting place, hidden. The eldin will find her when they come, but tell no one else where she lies."

Suchin nodded, still weeping and unable to look up.

Tobeszijian gripped his shoulder harder until the old man raised his eyes. "Thank you," Tobeszijian said, taking the children's bundle from the servant's arms. "Farewell."

He strode away, and Suchin came scurrying after him like a dog that will not be parted from its master.

"Wait, sire!" he called. "Will you not come back to us? Is the kingdom truly fallen?"

Tobeszijian's mouth set itself in a grim line. "I go to fight for it," he said. "How it shall come out, I will know not until I can learn who still calls me liege."

Hoisting Thiatereika and Faldain higher in his arms, he strode out, pa.s.sing the door to his dead wife's chamber with only the slightest falter in his step. Forgive me, my lady, for leaving you like this, he thought, and glanced back at Suchin. "Don't let the Nonkind take her," he said.

"No, sire," Suchin said in a small, frightened voice. He stared at Tobeszijian helplessly. "After we do as you have commanded, where will we go? What will become of us? Will you come back?"

Tobeszijian realized the old man thought he was running away, fleeing to save himself. Anger and hurt pierced Tobeszijian, and he whirled around. "Nether is mine!" he said, his voice ringing out loudly. "I do not desert my kingdom; this, I do swear."

"But, sire-"

Tobeszijian turned and strode on, closing his ears to Suchin's cries. His heart was stone now, his temper a fire that had seared him. With every stride through his empty palace his resolve hardened. He knew exactly what to do next, and he did not hesitate.

The bay horse he had ridden to the doors of the palace still wandered about on the portico with its reins dangling. It snorted when Tobeszijian appeared, but seemed glad to be caught. Most of the rosettes braided in its flowing black mane had already fallen off.

Tobeszijian placed both children in front of the saddle and swung up with a soft jingle of his silver spurs.

Pulling on his gauntlets against the cold air, he sent the horse plunging down the wide steps and across the grand courtyard, riding past the fountain with its grand basin and cavorting sea creatures carved of stone.

The fountain had been shut down, and the water in the basin had pieces of ice floating in it. Tobeszijian gave it not a second glance and touched his spurs to the horse, sending it galloping straight across the orderly plantings between the courtyard and the curving road.

He returned to the stables, where the serfs sweeping the snow off the cobbles fled at the sight of him and stood peeking out from the shadows behind the piles of frozen fodder. Tobeszijian dismounted and pulled his children down off the horse, while a stableboy hurried to hold the bridle. Tobeszijian glanced at the boy. "Inform the stablemaster that I want the darsteed," he said quietly.

The boy gaped at him stupidly, looking frozen with alarm.

"Now," Tobeszijian snapped.

The boy went shuffling toward the stables, leading the bay horse. Thiatereika tugged at her father's cloak. "Are we going riding, my papa?" she asked.

He saw a group of hirelances coming from the guardhouse. His stomach tightened.

"Are we going riding, my papa?" Thiatereika asked again. "Are we going riding?

Are we?"

"Yes," he said without glancing at her. He felt a sudden fear that his plan would not work.

Faldain had discovered something on the ground and was bending over, spraddle-legged, to examine it.

His small, gloved fingers worked busily. "When are we going riding?" Thiatereika asked him. "Are we going soon? Is that why I have so many clothes on? I'm not cold, my papa. I want to go riding now."

"Yes," he said distractedly, watching the hirelances come. "Very soon." From inside the round fortified stall the darsteed scented him and bugled. Its thoughts, like smoking brands, came at him: RunIrunIrunIrun. Soon, he answered it with his mind.

Faldain straightened up, staggering to catch his balance, and grinned at Tobeszijian. "Soon!" he crowed.

A little startled, Tobeszijian stared at him, wondering if the child had overheard his thoughts. But by then the hirelances had reached him. They fanned out, surrounding him in a circle of menace.

"Ready to surrender now?" Bork asked him.

The Gantese's small dark eyes stared deep into Tobeszijian's as though trying to read his thoughts, but Tobeszijian steeled himself against any flicker of communication and felt nothing touch him.

From the round stall a series of powerful thuds could be heard. The darsteed grew louder and more frantic.

Tobeszijian let his gaze stray in that direction. "I thought I would exercise the brute. It gets vicious when it's neglected."

Bork's eyes had shrunk to pinp.r.i.c.ks of suspicion. He pointed at the children.

"What are they?"

Tobeszijian's chin jutted, and his eyes grew cold. "His royal highness, Prince Faldain," he said in a voice like iron. "Her royal highness, Princess Thiatereika."

Hearing her name spoken, Thiatereika turned and skipped over to Tobeszijian's side. She glared up into Bork's hatchet face without fear. "You aren't one of our guardsmen," she declared. "You wear strange boots." Tobeszijian glared at the man. "You sent some of your varlets to seize my children from their chambers, Bork. With what intent?" Bork shrugged. "I follow orders." "They stay with me."

Bork's fangs showed. "In your land, the mothers keep their young close by. It makes them soft and feeble. Is the queen dead now?" "No," Tobeszijian lied swiftly, conscious of little ears listening to every word. "She sleeps, and I would not have her rest disturbed by these two." "A king, herding his own young?" Bork asked in astonishment. "You lie." Tobeszijian's hand slapped against his sword hilt, and several of the hirelances reached for their own weapons. Bork held up his hand to stop them, and sent Tobeszijian one of his thin-lipped smiles.

"You lie," he repeated more softly. "You and I both know it. A king does not do servant's work."

"He might when there are no servants to do the work," Tobeszijian retorted. "The palace is empty, except for one old woman who tends the queen. Or haven't you gone inside yet? I suppose you haven't, for there's been no looting done." It was Bork's turn to stiffen at the insult. Tobeszijian faced him, steely-eyed and unflinching.

Bork scowled at him. "Surrender your sword. Now."

Tobeszijian reached for Mirengard slowly. Inside, his heart was already knotting with more worry. He would have to fight them, and the children were in the way. Thod's bones, how was he to get them in the clear?

A commotion in the stableyard gave him his answer.

He spun around, the hirelances turning with him, and saw five sweating stableboys bringing the darsteed out with throat poles. The stablemaster and another boy followed, carrying the armored body cloth and special saddle. The darsteed was a huge, snorting brute. As black as evil, its slitted eyes glowed red.

Hot, acidic saliva dripped off its fangs to hiss upon the icy ground. The sweating, frightened boys maneuvered it around, forcing it to go near the mounting blocks.

Inside the stables, the horses must have sensed that the darsteed was out. Several of them whinnied in alarm, and the darsteed slung its head in that direction. It was bred to hunt and attack anything that moved. It lunged in the direction of the barns, but the boys held it in place.

Roaring in fury, it shook its snakelike head violently and slashed out with razor-sharp hooves. The boys screamed in fear, and one of them dropped his throat pole. At once the darsteed charged, but the others managed to hold it back. The beast shot flames from its nostrils, scorching the paving stones. Again it shook its powerful neck and head, shuddering in an effort to throw its handlers off their feet. The boy who'd fallen scrambled back up and darted forward to seize the dangling throat pole. The darsteed slashed at him, but missed. Enraged, it lashed its barbed tail from side to side. The stablemaster flung the armor cloth over the beast's humped back and fastened it with swift expertise. The cloth clanked with its movements, and the darsteed roared at the saddle, which was being carried closer now. It lunged, and the boys barely held it in check. The darsteed flung up its head and reared high, and the stablemaster hurried to throw the saddle on its back. He reached under the creature's belly for the cinch, missed, and grabbed again. The darsteed kicked him, and a b.l.o.o.d.y gash opened in the stablemaster's leg. Crying out, he yanked up the cinch hard enough to make the darsteed grunt, and stumbled back, limping and clutching his leg.

The darsteed's nostrils flared, sniffing the scent of fresh blood. Its lean head followed the stablemaster, and one of the boys shouted a warning. Faldain squealed with laughter and darted between the hirelancesencircling Tobeszijian. Grabbing at the child, Tobeszijian missed, and Faldain escaped. Seeing his son run straight at the darsteed, Tobeszijian's heart lurched in his chest. "Stop him!" he shouted.

Bork laughed, and none of the hirelances moved to obey Tobeszijian's command. Horrified, Tobeszijian tried to go after Faldain himself, but Bork blocked his path.

"You said you wanted to go riding with your young," he said with a laugh that showed his fangs. "Now we will see the truth."

Tobeszijian took a step back and sent his mind to the darsteed, touching cool intelligent reason to hot b.e.s.t.i.a.lity. The darsteed quieted at once, despite the child's approach. Its mind held resentment, but it was forced to subject itself to Tobeszijian's command.

StillIstillIstillIstill, Tobeszijian told it.

Breathing smoky plumes in the cold air, the darsteed stood motionless, watching Faldain's approach with its red eyes. The child toddled right up to it, well within striking range, and stopped, laughing and reaching up to the creature with innocent, chubby fingers.

"In Thod's name," the stablemaster breathed, watching with horrified eyes. "Hoi, you and Rafe try to get him away from that devil's sp.a.w.n." "Let his highness be," Tobeszijian forced himself to say calmly while Bork's eyes widened. "After all, this will be his war mount someday. They might as well become acquainted."

"You bluff well," Bork murmured, unable to take his gaze from the sight of child and beast studying each other. "But still you bluff."

"Do I?" Tobeszijian replied through his teeth. He kept his face stony and calm, but inside his heart was thudding with anxiety.

Thiatereika tugged at his cloak. "I can't see, my papa," she said in frustration. "What is Dainie doing with the black horse?" Tobeszijian lifted her into his arms. "Making friends with it," he said lightly, feeling sweat bead along his temples.

The darsteed was resisting his control. He could feel its hunger, like a clawing thing, and with dismay Tobeszijian remembered it had not been fed properly for many days now. Faldain was the perfect size for a meal. Oh, Thod, have mercy, he prayed.

Giggling as though conscious that he was the center of attention, Faldain glanced around at his audience, moved closer, and held up his hand again to the beast looming over him.