He was no longer the empty-eyed ghost that had first con-fronted her, but the man she'd seen yesterday.

She remembered sharing a drink from his helmet. "You are dust," she said.

"Not so anyone would notice," he replied. "We will go to-gether to the square. I will accompany you and Dorcas-she will see me."

"What will happen?"

"I don't know." He tipped the pot and swallowed the liquid in the bottom. "Very good. Dorcas is an excellent cook; the snails were a nice touch. You see, my magnificent hunter, death does not confer omniscience." He was swathed from head to foot in a dark burgundy and brown mantle.Dorcas returned and was surprised to see him. "Who is this?" she asked.

"A friend," Regeane said.

She stared fixedly at Remingus. "I didn't know you had any friends in the city."

"I don't," Regeane replied. "Remingus is from somewhat farther away. He lived near a lake in the wine country near Rome."

"Yes," Remingus replied. "I did. Yes, once long ago. But let us be on our way. The sun is up and burns away the morning mist. Soon the king will be in the forum."

He was right. When the three reached the ancient forum, they found it already crowded and more people arriving every moment. The sellers of fried bread and vegetables and others with wineskins and beer loaded on muleback were al-ready doing a brisk business at the outskirts of the crowd. All one needed was a cup and a few coppers.

The morning coolness was fading in the bright sunlight, and the people were imbibing freely of the refreshments of-fered by the food and wine vendors. Regeane felt uneasy. This was, despite the party atmosphere, not a happy gath-ering. Too many men were drinking heavily, too much, too early. A significant number of men clad in heavy mantles weren't drinking anything at all.

Regeane felt the hair rise on her neck as the wolf informed her almost every adult male was armed, and not a few of the women also. Dorcas had two heavy, long, carving knives in her belt. They were, as with most of the rest, concealed by her mantle. Most folk were milling around, greeting old acquain-tances and passing the time of day. Regeane knew almost no one here, so she and Remingus drifted toward the outskirts of the crowd. The forum was surrounded by colonnades on all four sides. Two colonnades were the porches of shops and warehouses where the rich produce of the countryside was stored and business was transacted. The third was the portico of the king's palace, and the fourth the entrance to the some-time temple of Roma, now a Christian cathedral. Its high steps and massive portico towered above the rest.

"He is there," Regeane said.

Remingus had no need to reply. The wolf found traces of Maeniel on the stones, the steps, and on a gust of unaccount-able wind that lifted her veil and tugged at her braided hair. A terrible bottomless sense of loss tore through her entire being, even as the wind lifted dust from the cobbles under her feet and set the clothing of what was now a mob to flapping and snapping in the blast.

"They are going to riot," she whispered.

"I think so," Remingus answered. He steered her between the shops across from the church to the edge of the forum. The wind died, and the air was oddly still.

When they reached the end of the alley between the ware-houses, Regeane found she could look out over the rooftops of the town and the countryside beyond. She sniffed the wind. In the darkness of her deepest mind, the wolf rose.

Go, her nightmare sister whispered. Go. He was mad to have involved himself in the doings of these foolish kings. He will pay the forfeit. Run! Smell the rain carried by the wind. They will burn nothing today. Change. Leap out. The tile roofs and stone walls will bear your weight easily.

Regeane's hair shifted on her head. The braid unraveled it-self, and her hair fell unconfined to her shoulders. Then there was a shout from the forum."The king. The king is coming."

The veil slid away from her face to her shoulders. "No," the woman whispered. "Whatever happens, whatever fate he meets, he will not journey forth alone. In life or death, I vow I will be at his side."

"The horizon is darkening," Remingus said.

"The air is still," Regeane answered.

There was another louder shout, "The king."

In the church the bishop, servants, and the captain of Desiderius's guard threw a rope ladder into the pit.

Maeniel came up.

They had ten crossbows trained on him. One wrong move, and he would be a sieve. He calculated the wolf's chances of survival under those circumstances and found them nil. He was ordered to kneel, and chains were fastened at his wrists, ankles, and neck. He was still nude, but the captain of the guard took pity on him to the extent of cutting a hole in a worn-out blanket and dropping it over his head. Then he was prodded along at spearpoint up the stairs, through the church, and past the door until he stood on the portico.

The square was filled by now. Most were gathered near the church as the trial had been announced. He was the most celebrated prisoner and enemy of the Lombard kingdom the king had ever taken. His warrior prowess was legendary even over and above his reputation for sorcery.

Maeniel stared, with the feral gaze of an absolute wolf, at the people pushing and shoving for a good look at him. His face held the defiance that is at the same time indifference, as if to say, You are lucky I am chained but it doesn't matter be-cause you cannot frighten me with fire or the sword. I know who and what I am, and in life or death I am free: the absolute self-assurance of the beast that is absolute innocence and cannot be forced into guilt or regret as lesser human crea-tures can.

He studied their eyes and then looked out toward the haze of the horizon's rim. He saw the building storm, felt the heat, saw dust rise over the newly plowed fields of the royal estates near the city. Then his guards prodded him down the steps and across the square toward the king, who was sitting along with the bishops and other Lombard notables in the shade of the palace portico overlooking both his prisoner and the throng.

Regeane pushed in with the rest toward Maeniel. She hadn't thought how the sight of him would affect her, so close and yet a world away. But she was practical, too. In this situa-tion, he would need all his strength and confidence to save his life. So she must not unman him. He must not guess her pres-ence among the crowd.

In a half-frozen forest in the upper reaches of his wild do-main, he would have known if she drew within a dozen miles of him, but here among the press of perspiring humans, her presence was masked by the thousand odors generated by men and women and all the items of commerce in the shops and warehouses around the forum, compounded by the belli-cose mood of the males in the crowd.

To the wolf their raw fury and aggression was a strangling reek. Left to himself in this atmosphere, the wolf would have tucked his tail between his legs and fled at as fast a run as he could manage and, moreover, not stopped until he reached a much cleaner place. The man thought darkly that someone was in for a lot of trouble today. Was it himself?

No. No. His guards were able to shove the throng aside easily, and when the males, the most dangerousones, looked at Maeniel, all the wolf saw in their faces was mild curiosity. He was being properly humbled, barefoot, wearing an old blanket as a tunic. His hair a rat's nest, his body smeared with silt from the stone floor of his damp cell, he wearing a steel collar around his neck and chains dangling from every limb.

If anything, he seemed to arouse pity in the hearts of the women; the men were indifferent. He sensed they were pre-occupied by other urgent concerns.

Just ahead he saw the king sitting comfortably in the shade of the palace portico. This time Desiderius didn't allow the bishop to present himself almost as an equal, as the prelate had in the church. The king was seated in the center of the porch, his court standing around him. The bishop, in defer-ence to his age, had also been given a chair but lower and to one side of the king, whose throne was placed on a dais.

Maeniel suppressed a smile as his guards reached the foot of the three steps leading to the portico. He was thrust to his knees by the captain of the guard, while the mercenaries rather brutally cleared an open space before the king.

Chiara was standing near the throne, just to one side, next to her father and Hugo. Maeniel's eyes rested on her for what was to her a truly frightening moment, but he gave no sign of recognition. Well, the church was dimly lit and perhaps he hadn't got a good look. Don't be an idiot, she told herself. He knows who you are, but he also knows better than to make a fuss, here of all places. She gave a sigh of relief.

The bear was present. He was riding Gimp; Hugo and the bear were on the outs at the moment. They'd wound up throwing things at each other after the bear visited Chiara. The commotion roused the palace guard and Hugo was al-most ejected forthwith. Chiara again intervened and per-suaded the bear to leave. He found the tavern where Gimp was getting sozzled and, in a serious snit, took up residence with his more amiable disciple. Gimp was a more comfort-able residence than Hugo at present, since he was a quiet drunk. After a certain amount of any intoxicating beverage was consumed, he went to sleep; he was, in fact, dozing at present. The bear had taken over more of his body functions than he did with any of his other hosts, even down to telling Gimp when to scratch, piss, and shit. Gimp didn't mind. He was happy. He was drunk most of the time now, and he had more than enough to eat. His guest could never get him very clean, and he hadn't even the intelligence and skill to dig up the occasional coin hoards the bear showed Hugo. Though he was not particularly useful to the bear, he was at least restful and cooperative-more, much more, than could be said of Hugo.

There was one thing the bear didn't realize. His possession of Gimp showed on Gimp's face. Chiara was uneasily aware of his presence and so was Maeniel when he got a good look at Gimp.

The bear, studying Maeniel kneeling in the dust, couldn't forgo the pleasure of gloating. "You should have listened to me in the first place," the bear told Maeniel. "You know what they're going to do to you, don't you-well, don't you?" he asked gleefully.

Maeniel looked up at Desiderius, Gimp, and Chiara.

"They're going to burn you, burn you alive!"

Chiara gave a gasp of horror. Then, equally horrified by her reaction, she clapped her hand over her mouth.

The bear roared, laughing. "I'm going to enjoy this."

In the crowd, Regeane, standing next to Remingus, heard him also. "That evil thing is here," shewhispered.

"Yes," Remingus answered quietly. "Be careful. I do not think he has yet sensed your presence. I saw him from afar the night we met. He summoned me from silence and darkness, back, back from peace, from the waters of Lethe where I could drift and dream the dreams of joy and sorrow aban-doned by the living on those misty shores. Back to the searing light of being and belonging, love, hate, and pain. I came to you. I live."

Regeane shuddered as she felt his hand on her arm. Then she froze, because the king was speaking.

"This man," he said, and pointed at the kneeling Maeniel, "is an enemy of our people and a servant of the Frankish king Charles. He has openly admitted his guilt. I think there is not more to say before-"

"May I speak?" Maeniel asked.

"No," Desiderius answered. "Silence him," he ordered the captain of the guard, who then smacked Maeniel on the side of the head with his mace.

The blow made Maeniel's ears ring and opened a gash on his cheekbone; blood ran scarlet down his face.

Regeane cried out. In fact, quite a few women in the crowd shouted or spoke, "No. For shame. He is bound."

The king glared at them over the heads of his mercenaries. "Be silent," he roared. "I'll flog the next who creates a distur-bance and hang any who think to join in the disorder. I will have no riots in this, my royal city. As for this-" Desiderious rose and pointed to Maeniel. "-take this offal out and hang him, then burn his corpse so he will not walk the night, vile sorcerer that he is."

The roar that rose from the mob frightened even Maeniel.

Desiderius quailed back.

The mercenaries suddenly decided they would much rather not have their backs to the citizens they'd been pushing around so cavalierly, and they rushed up the palace steps and turned toward the crowd in the square, spears and crossbows at the ready.

Maeniel was on his feet, but the captain was an iron man and he held Maeniel where he was at spearpoint-the small change being that he was now facing his prisoner instead of behind him.

Regeane for the first time understood the temper of the townspeople. She knew, as did Maeniel, that they were ready to rush the guards and kill everyone they could get their hands on, and even the thickheaded Desiderius saw he'd gone too far. From Maeniel's side, someone spoke to the king.

"Majesty, I believe it is our custom to allow the accused an opportunity to defend himself before sentence is pronounced."

She recognized the voice as Robert's.

"Y-yes," Desiderius stammered, then pointed to Maeniel. "Speak... speak."

"I have little to say," Maeniel said. "Yes, I am Charles's man. Yes, I came to spy out your defenses, but I was captured before I could accomplish my mission and so was unable to do any harm to you, the city, or its people. I believe my ac-tions were honorable. I never made a pretense of being your friend, and Ibelieve it is your custom to allow a captured pris-oner to ransom himself."

A distraction was what Desiderius needed, and this was a good one. "What are you offering?" he asked bluntly.

"For you, two pounds of gold."

"That is a large sum."

Maeniel could see the wheels turning. "And further, one half pound for the bishop. Ten gold pieces for each of the gentlemen of your court and one for every family head in your city."

This was a truly staggering sum, but Regeane had seen Maeniel's coffers, and she didn't doubt that he could pay that and more. His duchy was awash in prosperity, and his people were not such as to desire much in the way of possessions. For a moment, the ill humor of the people departed. The courtiers murmured among themselves and even the merce-naries did some mental arithmetic, as some were in arrears as to their wages. For a short time, everyone was immersed in the pleasant task of spending imaginary money.

But Hugo proved a spoilsport. "What?" he screeched. "What? Are you going to let him go? And on what? His word alone? Who? Who, I ask you? Who will be his surety?"

"Hugo," Maeniel shot back. "Hugo, many things have been said of me, both good and evil, but none have ever been so base as to question my honesty. What I promise, I will per-form. I kept faith even with you and that vile father of yours."

"You killed him." Hugo was almost frothing at the mouth. "I saw you kill him."

"So you were there? Well, if you were watching, then you know he tried to murder my wife, Regeane.

Regeane, who begged mercy for you both. Enough." The chains on Maeniel's wrists and ankles clattered. "Oh, you're lucky, you piece of dung, that I am fettered. Any man who calls himself a man would defend the woman joined to him by law and love."

The answering shout from the crowd was deafening.

"They know what happened by the river," Regeane whispered.

"Did you think they didn't?" Remingus asked.

Desiderius looked frustrated. Hugo stepped forward. He looked both frustrated and infuriated. He shouted at the king, "What? Will you let this sorcerer, this stinking murderer, buy his liberty with nothing more than promises?"

"Yes." Desiderius frowned. "There is the matter of sureties. What manner of guarantee will you give me that you will keep your word?"

Regeane stepped forward, pushing back her veil as she did so. "Your majesty," she spoke in a loud, clear voice that car-ried to the edges of the crowd. "I will undertake to be surety for my lord and husband."

Chains or not, Maeniel spun around. "Regeane? You? Here? How?"

The color drained from his face. He reached out one hand, chained at the wrist, toward her. Regeane took the out-stretched hand and stepped up beside him."I will be my lord's security," she repeated. "He does not lie. I know this well. He will pay the ransom down to the last copper, but set him free and I will remain-prisoner or your guest, the choice is yours-until he returns with payment."

"No," Maeniel said.

"Yes," Regeane said, and looked directly into his eyes. "Yes, I will. You need have no fear he will default." She pressed his hand. "My love," she whispered. "Don't deny me this opportunity to save you."

In spite of the crowd and the courtiers peering down from the porch at them, the two seemed alone together. He stretched out his other hand and rested it against her cheek. Then, gently, kissed her on the lips.

"So fair a victor, how can I help but be conquered. It will be as you wish, my love," he said.

Women in the crowd were weeping; Chiara was weeping, tears pouring down her face.

The bishop studied them both, then said to Desiderius, "Better it is to settle quarrels with money than blood. Release him."

"Very well," the king said.

He was cheered. He looked uncomfortable. Desiderius wasn't used to being popular. Maeniel said the same thing to Regeane when he whispered to her, "The king is not used to the affection of his people."

"Don't worry," she replied in an even softer voice. "He won't have it long."

Maeniel pulled her closer to his side, then looked up at the sky. It was noon or only a little later. The sun beat down on the crowd. Only the porch, where the king had his mercenaries, courtiers, and other notables, was in shade. Not a breath of air was stirring.

"Do you feel it?" she whispered to Maeniel.

"Yes-since this morning. Even in that horrible hole they call the bottle. Even before dawn I knew."

"Very well," Desiderius said, and clapped his hands. "This business is settled." He gave Maeniel an oblique glance. "And settled, I hope, to the satisfaction of all."

Regeane felt Maeniel's hand tighten on hers.

He's lying, she thought. Maeniel knows it; I know it; he doesn't mean to keep his bargain.

"He's lying," the bear's voice spoke from his residence in Gimp. "He doesn't mean to let you go." Both Regeane and Maeniel heard the bear's words, as did Chiara and Hugo. "I'll wager," the bear continued, "that you will both be dead by nightfall."

"Yes," Maeniel answered bleakly. "I wouldn't take that bet. You might not ever be able to collect, but you'd win."

"I want one of you. I have the power. This enraged mob is like a fountain of life to me. Chose. Let me have one of you. Give me the woman-wolf, Maeniel, and I will get you out of the city into the forest. Or, if you like, yield yourself to me, and I will get her safely away. Otherwise you will both perish."

Maeniel pulled Regeane even closer. She felt the com-forting warmth and strength of his body against hers, but they never got a chance to answer. Robert spoke up."Our business is not concluded," he said loudly.

Desiderius was turning to leave. "I will hear no more cases today," he snapped irritably.