"They don't sound as if they're making demands," she ventured.

"Yet." Avanasy's jaw worked back and forth. "If only there was some way ..."

But he was not allowed to finish his wish.

"Will you come out then, my lord?" inquired a man's polite voice. "And whoever's in there with you. I charge you in the empress's name."

Ingrid's heart leapt into her throat, choking her. She could see at once what had happened. While some of the soldiers had kept Hajek busy talking at the gate, others had circled around the back of the village, crept between the houses, and found the place where the strangers were most likely to be sheltered. Overhearing their whispered conversation, the soldiers ordered the strangers out.

For all the anger and self-reproach in Avanasy's eyes, there was nothing to be done. The god house had only one door and no windows at all.

Shoulder to shoulder, they walked out into the daylight.

Three soldiers met them with swords drawn. They had taken care to stand so their shadows would not cross into the line of sight of the threshold and give away their presence. They were all brown from sun and wind. Two had golden hair showing underneath their helmets and heavy beards concealing their faces. The third was younger and slighter. His beard was neatly trimmed along the line of his pointed chin and his eyes glittered as he looked Avanasy and Ingrid over.

Uniform seemed to be woolen coats with chain mail over all and breastplates over that. The rows of braid and brass buttons on cuffs and collars were probably indications of rank. Leather gloves covered their hands, and worn leather boots their legs, just below the round steel caps that protected their knees. Their swords were clean and straight, and glinted in the sun, and Ingrid suddenly felt very keenly that her neck was quite bare.

"Thank you, my lord," said the one with the trimmed beard. "It is best to do these things quietly, don't you agree?"

In reply, Avanasy drew himself up to his full height. "Over-Lieutenant, I have been summoned back to Isavalta by imperial order. The errand is urgent, and must not be hindered."

"And my commander will be happy to examine any documents you carry to prove your assertions," said the over-lieutenant, sounding like the soul of reason. "In the meantime, my orders are to return you and any companions you may have," his eyes raked Ingrid over, "to our fortress. So, if you will be so good as to walk with us, and to remain quiet." He gestured with his free hand, indicating that they should start toward the rear of the village.

Avanasy's fists opened and closed, but they were unarmed, and the soldiers surrounded them. He brushed his fingertips against the back of Ingrid's hand, as if to reassure himself that she remained solid, and they turned and walked as they were ordered. One soldier took up position on either side of them, and the over-lieutenant brought up the rear.

Avanasy held his head and shoulders proudly as they were marched through the village, but his eyes were never still. They darted this way and that, looking for a way out of this, Ingrid was certain. She tried to do the same, but all she seemed able to see were the glinting swords in the hands of the armored men that flanked them. Her mouth had gone as dry as dust and her brains seemed to have fled.

But if they were unarmed, they were not unnoticed. Their escort led them around another hut, and straight into the grandmothers. Two of them carried the big wooden bats used for stirring the kettles. Another pair carried a kettle between them full of something that steamed and smelled strongly of the sea. The others, maybe half a dozen old women just stood like stones, blocking the way and making no noise at all.

Which left Ingrid wondering where the children were.

"Good morning, honored Grandmother," said the over-lieutenant. "How do I find you on this fine morning?"

"You've two guests of ours there," said one of the old women, a squat creature, wrinkled and brown as the stump of a tree. It was then Ingrid noticed that Malan'ia was also nowhere to be seen. "We're here to say you'd best leave them be."

"Grandmother, I honor your respect for the laws of hospitality," the over-lieutenant replied seriously. Beside Ingrid, the nearest soldier shifted uneasily. His eyes seemed to be counting the old women, and taking in the long wooden bats, and the steaming iron kettle. "But these two are wanted for questioning. If they've done nothing, they'll be back with you soon, you may be sure of it."

"You'd best leave them be," repeated the old woman. "There's no trouble wanted here."

"You old fools!" cried a different voice.

Ingrid began to realize what a warren this village really was. A place of dark doorways and careful ears, where anyone might appear from anywhere. Apparently the soldiers did too, because the new voice made them all jump.

Malan'ia stormed out from one of the doorways. "What are you doing?" she shrilled. "Do you want to see the entire village burned to the ground?" She planted herself squarely between the villagers and the soldiers. "Burned for a sorcerer?" she sneered. "Have your brains all turned to sea foam? Do we need that much more trouble? Let them pass!"

The squat woman narrowed her eyes. "Malan'ia, it may be you'd better stand back too."

"Stand back and what?" demanded Malan'ia, hands planted on hips. "Let you kill us all? Let you wipe our home away into memory? Get along with you, all you old fools! This has nothing to do with us!"

"Be advised by your good friend here, Grandmother. We're taking our leave, and our prisoners now."

The over-lieutenant tried to start forward. The squat woman stepped into his path. The flanking soldiers drew in closer to Avanasy and Ingrid. Ingrid heard the blood singing in her ears. Malan'ia, with a snort of derision, raised the back of her hand to the squat woman and slapped her full across the face.

At the same time, Avanasy grabbed the soldier beside him, and using his sword arm as a lever, swung the man around and sent him careening into the over-lieutenant.

"Run!" he shouted to Ingrid.

But Ingrid had no intention of doing such a thing. The soldier flanking her lunged for her, and Ingrid dove forward, measuring her length on the ground and rolling sideways. As she did, the two old women with the kettle hefted it in one motion and flung its contents straight in the soldier's face. He reeled back screaming as the boiling water drenched him and the weed wrapped his hands and face. He fell, clawing at the green mass that clung to his face, searing his skin and blinding him.

Ingrid scrambled to her feet. For an instant, she saw Avanasy facing the over-lieutenant with one of the paddles in his hands. In the next heartbeat, Malan'ia was on her, pushing and pinching, with sharp elbows and sharp fingers. Ingrid staggered backward, and tried to shove the old woman aside, but she was tougher and more wiry than Ingrid had given her credit for, and she just pushed back, sending Ingrid stumbling toward the remaining soldier, before the other woman reached her, and pulled her cursing back.

"Let them go, damn you! You'll have us all put to the sword for a sorcerer!"

The second soldier wrapped one brawny arm around Ingrid from behind. She kicked back, but her shoes found nothing but armor and leather. She would have bit down, but there was nothing but leather and armor holding her pinned.

Avanasy parried the over-lieutenant's blows with the stout paddle, but splinters flew with each cut. Only the length of the thing kept the over-lieutenant back, and it would not hold much longer.

"Sorcerer!" the soldier bellowed. "I've got your woman!"

Avanasy swung around, and the over-lieutenant pulled his sword back to aim a fresh blow. Ingrid cried out in warning, but at the same moment, she heard the sound of galloping hooves.

The soldier wrenched Ingrid around toward the sound. The over-lieutenant hesitated just long enough and Avanasy dodged the blow. The old women screamed, scattering like leaves, and another soldier on horseback plunged between the huts.

He held no sword, but a pike, and he bore down on Avanasy. Ingrid screamed. She could not help it. But the blow did not catch Avanasy. Instead, it sent the over-lieutenant spinning and crying out, dropping into the dust, his sword falling from his hand.

The rider wheeled his roan horse around in a tight and expert circle. The soldier behind Ingrid tightened his grip until she could barely breathe, dragging her back from the rider. The edge of his sword pressed against her belly.

"Let her go," said Avanasy, his voice low and dangerous as he picked up the sword dropped by the fallen over-lieutenant. His eyes never left the soldier. "Where will you go and how will you get there?"

The rider closed in beside Avanasy, his pike lowered and ready. Ingrid could make out nothing of his face in the shadow of his helmet, but his coat was bright blue and its trimmings were gold.

The wind carried yet another new roar, over the perpetual sound of the ocean. The sound of men's angry voices, and there were a lot of them, and Ingrid knew where the children had gone. Their grandmothers had sent them scampering down the cliffs to call back the fishermen, the young men with strong backs and arms, nets and hooks and perhaps even spears for their work. Horses neighed and voices cursed, and yet more voices roared, and the soldier holding Ingrid swung her around yet again, and she felt his grip slacken.

Ingrid threw herself sideways, lunging with all her weight, and trusting desperately to her woolen petticoats to keep the edge of the sword from her flesh. She fell again into the dust, skinning her palms and banging her chin so hard it rattled her teeth. Hooves started behind her and she rolled again in time to see the soldier trying to flee from the horseman, and taking the blow from the pike straight in his back so he too went sprawling in the dust. This time the old women got him, falling on him, rolling him over, kicking and beating wherever there was enough bare flesh to make a target. The over-lieutenant staggered to his feet, but the horseman wheeled around again and charged back. This time he took the blow on his helmet, fell backward, and stayed down.

Evidently satisfied with his work, the rider stilled his horse, and patted its neck as he dismounted. His free hand worked the straps on his helmet and he pulled it free.

As soon as the sunlight touched he face, Avanasy gave a delighted shout.

"Peshek!" Avanasy ran forward and clasped the man's shoulder.

"Avanasy!" The rider grinned in return. "Still don't know when to run, do you?"

"It would seem not." Avanasy laughed with him, sounding happier than he had since they arrived in the village.

"And who is this good lady?" The man, Peshek, turned toward her.

Ingrid had never seen a man as straightforwardly handsome as Peshek. His hair was a rich chestnut, his eyes were summer blue. His face was strong and open and his shoulders broad. All about him hung an air of easy confidence. Despite herself, Ingrid felt her cheeks begin to redden as he regarded her.

"She is Ingrid Loftfield of Sand Island in the United States of America, and she is to be my wife, Peshek. So, you may keep those rogue's eyes to yourself," he added with a mock growl.

"Wife!" Peshek exclaimed, genuinely startled. "What ..." He stopped himself. "Well," he amended. "I knew there was no woman of Isavalta good enough for Avanasy. My greetings and my duty, mistress." Peshek bowed to her with his hand over his heart.

"Thank you, sir," said Ingrid, curtsying. "Your timing is excellent."

"And you are not the first woman to tell him so." Avanasy laughed again. "Quick, Peshek, come stand here by me. I think a second rescue is coming."

Sure enough, the tide of village men boiled around the houses, coming from all directions to cut off any retreat, and what they found was Ingrid, Avanasy, Peshek, the horse, which danced back nervously, the old women, and the fallen soldiers. Peshek grabbed his horse's reins and patted the animal's nose to soothe it.

Two of the fishers with wicked-looking iron hooks in their hands started forward from the crowd.

"I beg you, put up your arms," said Avanasy, stepping into their path. "This man is a friend and helped us in our need." Grumbling, the fishers fell back, but their suspicious eyes did not leave Peshek.

All of which was too much for Malan'ia.

"You've slain us all!" she cried, shedding tears even as she glared around at her neighbors. "Just see if you haven't! How long do you think it will be before the garrison sends out a search for this lot!" She swept out her hands to indicate the fallen soldiers. The over-lieutenant lay still as death. The other two gazed around them with wide and nervous eyes, but did not seem to think it wise to move.

Malan'ia spat on the ground and stumped back into her house.

"I think you will not need to look far to see how the garrison knew you were here," murmured Peshek very softly, stroking his horse's nose again. Then, he raised his voice. "I fear she is right. I saw their horses making straight back to the fort. If they are found without their riders, a search party will go out immediately."

Keeper Hajek made his way to the head of the crowd of fishers. "If we send some men out now, we might still be able to catch them."

"That will help for a while," agreed Peshek. "But not for long. The best course for the three of us is to be gone from here."

Hajek nodded. He pointed to one cluster of fishers who all carried stout ropes over their shoulders. "Get you out and find those horses if you can." To another group he said, "Take these three out of sight, and then you'd better see to the others by the gate." The men growled their affirmation, and with three of them to a soldier, they hauled them out of sight. The rest of the village parted to let the men through, and muttered uneasily among themselves. Ingrid caught Malan'ia's name spoken several times, and the tone used was not friendly.

Apparently, Hajek heard it too. "Friends, friends," he called. "There's work to be done, and if we're missed from the cliffs, suspicions will rise fast and high."

Hajek stepped smartly up to Avanasy and Ingrid and bowed in front of them, adding a nod for Peshek, who returned it gravely. The rest of the village followed suit, all of them bowing with great solemnity, leaving Ingrid feeling like the guest of honor at a huge country wedding. As Hajek led his people away, their voices lifted high in song.

"Let the waves roll, let the wind roar, You've brought me home, from many's the shore.

Your eyes light the moon, your tears fill the sea, Your hands hold my heart, your voice calls to me."

A question filled Ingrid as the villagers departed to their tasks. She was sure she did not want to know the answer, but she could not stop herself from asking. "What will they do with the soldiers?"

"They will make sure the men do not follow us," said Avanasy flatly, and his cold voice told Ingrid all she needed to know. "Come, Ingrid. Let us get our things. We'll take shelter beneath the cliffs. There'll be a moon tonight and we can sail out after dark."

Ingrid tried to catch Avanasy's eye, to get some reassurance from his voice or his manner, but there was none. He was distant from her, although they walked side by side, with Peshek leading his horse behind them. His mind was on his empress and thoughts of the danger to the empire, and she would have to try to wait until his thoughts turned, with as much patience as she could muster. But she did not feel content to wait. Something pulled at her, some restlessness like the sensation left over from a bad dream made her uneasy inside, and she could not give it a name.

Avanasy watched Ingrid sink into her own silence, and he regretted it. He wanted to speak comfort to her, but he had no words. A day and a night in Isavalta; already six men were condemned to death for no more than looking on his face. The first casualties of the war to come.

No, Iakush came before them, and I'll lay all I own down that even he was not the first.

Peshek waited outside the god house with his horse while Avanasy and Ingrid went inside to pick up their bundles and sling them over their shoulders again. Avanasy took this moment of privacy to touch Ingrid's arm and look into her eyes. She returned a small smile that held no more than a spark of warmth, but there was no time now to inquire as to just what troubled her. He would have to trust to her patience just a little longer.

There was no question of Peshek's horse being able to negotiate the path that had brought Avanasy and Ingrid up to the village, so they were forced to head eastward along the coastline, until the cliffs gentled into hills, and then trek back over sand and stone, following the waterline as the waves ebbed and surged at their right hand.

At last, with much coaxing of the skittish, tired horse, they made their way around the rocky point to the cove that sheltered Avanasy's boat. Salt stung his lips and sand grated against his skin. Ingrid looked wan, and even Peshek's banter had ceased to make her smile.

Peshek already seemed to have forgotten the men left behind, but that was ever his way. He lived for now and what was to come. The past was over and done with as soon as it happened. He did as he must, loved as he would, and never labored under any shadow. Avanasy sometimes envied him, and sometimes grew exasperated with his carelessness. Added to all that, he suspected that the nagging that teased at his insides as he watched Peshek coax Ingrid with his light words - telling her of the pleasant sights that Isavalta held - was the first mild stirring of jealousy.

Which was so ridiculous he had to laugh, grimly and silently, at himself.

"Well," announced Peshek, gazing at the narrow cove about him. "Not so fine as your other country home, Avanasy, but I'm sure all the fresh air is most healthful."

"It wants a woman's touch," replied Ingrid. "And a fire. I'll see if there's driftwood to be found. I'm sure you two need to talk." Before Avanasy could offer advice or caution, she plunked her bundle onto a boulder and started down the shoreline again, pausing here and there to pick up what driftwood she found.

While Ingrid wandered farther afield, Peshek busied himself with his horse, uncinching the animal's tack and laying it aside. Relieved of its bridle, the horse began to nose among the rocks, in case there was some shred of edible greenery to be found.

"She's a fair one, Avanasy," he said cheerfully as he bent down to take up the horse's near hoof and check for stones. "But I'd stay on the right side of her tongue if I were in your shoes."

"If you were in my shoes, you'd have wedded her and bedded her months since, rascal that you are," joked Avanasy in answer, but his humor did not last long. "Peshek, what has happened? Is the empress truly with child? The lord sorcerer said nothing of it."

Peshek shook his head, and straightened up. "Nothing so simple. Where is Lord Iakush? I cannot believe he stayed away when all is falling apart."

"He's dead, Peshek. Kacha killed him."

Peshek's face turned thunderous, and he spat. "Not the first and not the last by a long chalk," he muttered in grim prophecy. "The empress is not with child. She is fled her palace, and all that comes out of there are Kacha's lies."

Avanasy's cheeks paled as Peshek told him how he had taken the disguised empress from the Vaknevos, and how he had been charmed to sleep and how she had escaped his custody.

"She bids you meet her at the Heart of the World. I know no more than that." Peshek turned away again, laying both hands on his horse's mane. The creature snorted and stamped one hoof. Despite his attempt to hide it, Avanasy clearly saw the shame that filled Peshek's face. "I am glad you are back with us, Avanasy," he said.

"But how!" Avanasy thumped his fist with his thigh. "How is he able to do this! Kacha is no sorcerer, yet magic comes under his hands. Only through magic could he deceive the entire council and put Medeoan to flight."

"And it is not possible all the council lords are traitors," added Peshek. "Fools, perhaps, treacherous, perhaps, but most of them believe in the empire."

"Which is why they are council lords." Avanasy stared past his friend toward the rushing gray ocean. The foam-crested waves spoke in their wordless, unceasing voices and gave him no answers at all. "This is a deep plot, Peshek, and it was set in motion well before Kacha was sent to wed Medeoan. Why did I let her send me away?"

"Because you are of more use to her alive than dead, wherever you might be, and you knew that." He shook his head. "Still, the news is not all bad." Peshek went on to tell Avanasy of his meeting with his father, and how word was spreading to find the truly loyal.

Avanasy blew out a sigh to the dimming air. "I should have known you would not be idle. This will be good news to give to the empress when I reach her."

"So I hoped." Peshek pulled on the fingers of his gloves for a moment. Then, he said in a low voice. "A wife, Avanasy? In truth?"

"We have not been prayed over yet, but, yes, I have given her my pledge."

"Was that wise? The empress ... now that Kacha has betrayed her, she's going to turn back to you, and ..."

Avanasy held up his hand. "No more, Peshek."

"Avanasy, you are not a fool."

"No. But there are things that may not be spoken of. Not even here in the middle of nowhere. I fell in love. I made a promise. I did not believe I would ever be welcomed back, and when I was sent for, I could not abandon her." His eyes instantly searched the mouth of the cove for Ingrid, but did not see her. It was just as well. This was not a conversation he wanted her to hear.

"And what will you do when you face our mistress imperial again?" inquired Peshek mildly.