ONE
  
 THE HUNCHED figure toiled up the winding trail leaning heavily upon his
 long crooked staff, stopping frequently to rest and to look down upon
 the placid lowlands, gazing toward the west in the direction ofAskelon.
 He was an old man of years beyond counting, dressed in the robes and
 cowl of a priest. The hood threw a dark shadow across his features,
 and though the day was hot and the sun bright, he did not uncover his
 head but went on his way wrapped head to toe. Seen from a distance he
 might have been a black beetle scrabbling up a hillock bearing the
 weight of his burdensome shell.
  
 When he reached the summit of the plateau he sat down on a rock beneath
 an ancient wind-worn tree that threw its sparse, gnarled branches over
 the road. Many a pilgrim had sat there upon that rock to offer up a
 prayer to the gods for a fortuitous oracle.
  
 But this traveler was no pilgrim and offered no prayers.
  
 Instead, he sat and with narrowed eyes gazed out over the countryside.
 The air sang with bird-song and shimmered as the heat rose in waves
 from the land. In the misty blue distance his sharp eagle's vision
 could see the dark green line ofPelgrinForest, lying like a vast
 green sea away to the west. In the valley below, peasants labored in
 the fields among their new crops. Their shouts to their lazy oxen
 drifted up the side of the hill like petitions to an unhearinggod.
  
 The old man turned his face away from the peaceful landscape shining
 green and golden beneath clear, untroubled blue skies. He looked
 toward the temple rising white and silent as a tomb above him. Then he
 lifted himself heavily to his legs once more, took up his staff, and
 continued on.
  
 When he reached the temple yard he stopped and leaned long on his
 staff, as if waiting for a sign, or as if, having come this far, he was
 unable to decide whether to finish what he came to do. After some time
 he turned his face to the east, toward the mountains whose mighty heads
 could be seen rising above their heavy shoulders. There, above the far
 peaks, he saw dark clouds assembling and moving westward on the wind.
  
 The old priest nodded to himself and then went across the stone-paved
 yard to the temple steps. He climbed the stairs, raised the iron ring
 on the great wooden door, and knocked several times.
  
 After a few moments the door opened and a man in a red cloak poked his
 head out. "The temple is not open at this hour." The man looked at
 the old priest unkindly. "Come back at the seventh hour if you want
 prayers or an omen."
  
 "Do you not see that I am a priest?" asked the old one. "I have come
 to see the High Priest of Ariel."
  
 "He sees no one," the temple guard said. "He is in retreat."
  
 "Is he, indeed? But this is a matter of greatest urgency. He must see
 me."
  
 The guard glared at the wrinkled old priest, and his features
 proclaimed that the old man and his crooked staff were a great
 nuisance.
  
 But before he could reply, the old priest spoke again" It is not for you
 to decide. Bring someone in authority. If not the High Priest, then
 the under-High Priest, or the Day Priest."
  
 The temple guard glared a silent curse on the old man and closed the
 door. The elderly priest stood for a few moments and waited, head bent
 down. Just as he was about to raise the ring once again he beard steps
 on the other side of the door, A gray-cloaked priest, a young man with
 a peeked face, thrust his head through the opening. Behind him the
 guard stood frowning.
  
 "Well," the young priest said, "what do you want?"
  
 "I wish to speak with the High Priest. That is allowed, surely. It is
 a matter of some importance."
  
 "He sees no one unannounced," snapped the priest.
  
 "Then I wish to be announced at once," said the old man softly. His
 faded eyes hardened to stone.
  
 I 717 I
  
 "High Priest Fluell is in retreat; he cannot be disturbed. I am the
 Day Priest; I am empowered to help you."
  
 The old man smiled slyly. "That I doubt most heartily. Still, you
 will do. Announce me to him. I can readily see that you arc a man of
 some resource you will find a way."
  
 The young man's face convulsed in a mighty frown. He drew breath to
 shout the old man away. But before he could speak, the elderly priest
 raised his hand and said, "Do what I say." This was spoken simply, but
 with utmost authority. The younger priest felt it like a slap. His
 mouth snapped shut instantly.
  
 "Wait over there." the Day Priest muttered. He pointed to a stone
 bench under a tree away across the temple yard by the wall.
  
 "I will abide," said the old man. He turned and began slowly
 descending the temple steps.
  
 "What name shall I give aim?" shouted the young priest after him.
  
 The old man paused, leaned on his staff, and seemed to ponder the
 question carefully. "Well?" called the Day Priest.
  
 "Tell him," the old man began at length, "that a friend from the east
 has come." One gnarled hand disappeared beneath the folds Qfhis robes.
 "And give him this." He withdrew his hand and held but a darkly
 glittering object.
  
 The young man came out of the temple and took the talisman from the
 outstretched hand. He held it in his palm and examined it closely.
  
 The object was a flat round medal made of black stone, and was
 inscribed with strange symbols which he did not recognize. It was cold
 in his hand, and a strange feeling came over him as he held the
 talisman a feeling of deep foreboding, of doom gathering around him
 like the high dark clouds overhead.
  
  
 Without another word he turned and went back into the temple. The old
 man continued down the steps and made his way slowly to the bench under
 the tree. He settled himself to wait in the shade.
  
 The day progressed leisurely. At midday a straggling few pilgrims came
 to the temple. The Day Priest met them and took their offerings. The
 pilgrims waited and then were admitted into the temple for their
 oracle. They came out and went away chattering happily, full of the
 good fortune which had been assured them by the priests. None noticed
 the old man sitting quiet as an idol beneath the tree by the wall.
  
 Evening came on, and with it a cool breeze out of the east, scented
 with the sweet musty smell of rain. As a crimson sun set in fiery
 brilliance away beyond the golden fields of the valley below the
 temple, a priest came out of the temple with a brand and lit the torch
 that stood in a stone pylon in the center of the temple yard.
  
 The priest stood with his back turned to the old man, raised the brand
 and lit the torch, then turned slowly feeling unseen eyes on him and
 peered into the shadows at the old man still seated on the bench. From
 out of the darkness two bright eyes glittered back at him in the
 torchlight. The priest Jumped back, almost dropping the torch. Then
 he turned and fled into the temple. The great wooden door slammed shut
 behind him, and the sound of its closing echoed through the empty
 yard.
  
 The old man did not move; he merely closed his eyes once more and
 waited.
  
 High clouds, flying swiftly on the upper winds like tattered sails,
 obscured the moon rising over the valley. The breeze came in gusts
 now, and in the distance could be heard the muted rumblings of thunder
 far away. A few dry leaves flittered across the stone flagging of the
 temple yard, their tumbling shapes like skittering mice. The torch in
 the pylon sputtered as the wind played with it.
  
 The old man sat with his bead down, he drew his robes more closely
 around him and waited.
  
 At midnight the courtyard was dark and silent. Clouds covered the sky,
 and the distant mumbling of thunder sounded ever closer. The wind was
 fresh and steady out of the cast, guttering the flame of the torch,
 making shadows leap and dance around the pylon.
  
 Then, from the far side of the temple, came the faint glimmer of
 another light. The winking light approached, swinging in the nand that
 held it, accompanied by the muffled slap of sandals on the stones.  The
 old man raised his head and smiled in the dar kIn a moment the stranger
 had come to stand before the seated figure. He raised the shuttered
 lantern and opened one of the small
  
 / 719 I
  
 doors to let out more light. In the yellow glow of die lantern the
 priest studied his visitor.
  
 "Who are you?" asked the priest.
  
 "So, Pluell, you have come at last."
  
 "How do you know me?"
  
 "You are the High Priest, are you not? Does not the High Priest have a
 name?"
  
 "I have and you know it. I would know yours."
  
 "I think you do, sir."
  
 The High Priest squinted at the old face and held the lantern closer.
 "I have never seen you before, never." Then he added slowly, "Have
 I?"
  
 The old man shook his head. "No, perhaps not. It has been a long time
 since I have been in these parts."

  
 "You are no priest," Pluell asserted, "though you wear the priestly
 garb. If you have not been here for many years, how is it that I
 should know your name?"
  
 "You received my talisman, did you not?"
  
 "I did." He stuck out his hand and held out the black stone. The old
 man took it and held it up. "It is a most curious piece." ^ "Yes, most
 curious." The old man concealed ii in his robe. I Just then the sky
 above was torn by lightning, illuminating the two figures in stark,
 unnatural light.
  
  
 "The storm is upon us," said the old man.
  
 "Who are you?" asked the High Priest.
  
 "I tell you that you know."
  
 "Bah! You're wasting my time. I'll have nothing more to do with you.
 You are keeping me from my bed." He glared at the old man. "It was
 foolish for me to come."
  
 "And yet you came. Why, I wonder?"
  
 The High Priest opened his mouth to speak, thought better, and closed
 it again.
  
 "I will tell you why," intoned the old man softly. "You came because
 you had to come- You had no other choice but to come and see for
 yourself if what you thought was true."
  
 The High Priest said nothing. The wind gusted and the torch flared.
 The tree branches above them creaked and groaned in the wind.
  
 TW Alwnf and tte fbMM
  
 You came because I summoned you."
  
 You lying old fool!" said Plucll. **I will not listen to this."
  
 "You came because you know trouble approaches, and you know I can
 help."
  
 "You are insane. I have finished with you. Be gonel" he shouted.
  
 "Very well," said the old man evenly. He stood slowly as if he would
 leave at once. As he rose hu hood fell back from his bead, revealing
 long wispy locks of white hair framing a face as creased and lined B
 frirTOwed field-Sharp black cyeashined out of the ravaged face. "I win
 go, but ooce there was a time when the Dame of Nimrood commanded a
 measure of respect."
  
 The High Priest stepped back involuntarily at the sound of the name.
 -Nimroodi" he gasped. "It cannot beT
  
 "There, you see? You do know me."
  
 '"But you are deadi Years ago... I was but a boy... I heard you were
 killed in the battle with the Dragon King ..."
  
 "As you see, I was not." replied the old man.
  
 **Nimroodl I dare not believe my eyesi" "Believe them, sirf It is
 Nimrood and none other." Lightning streaked the sky, loosing thunder to
 march out in booming steps across the valley. Heavy drops of rain
 began thudding to earth, splashing against the stooes in the temple
 yard. "You spoke of trouble." said High Priest Pluell. "How can you
 help?"
  
 Nimrood turned his face to the sky. "The storm is come in force.
 Would you not rather invite me into your private chambers? I think we
 might have much to discuss."
  
 High Priest Pluell stood in momentary indecision. He glanced at
 Nimrood sharply, weighing the matter. Rain spattered down into his
 face. The torch on the pylon guttered out, hissing like a serpent in
 the dark.
  
 "Very well." Pluell said. "Follow me." He led them to the little-used
 side entrance, leaving the temple yard to the rain and the night.
  
 TWO
  
 BRIA LAY for a moment listening to the drip of the rain onto the
 bartizan outside their chamber. The doors were thrown open wide and
 the gentle summer breeze blew in, bringing with it the fresh clean
 scent of rain-washed air. Tiny blue birds twittered on the balustrade,
 making joyful music to the morning.
  
 The Queen rolled over and flung an encircling arm to her side. Her hand
 patted the empty bedclothes where her husband would have been. He was
 gone. She opened her eyes lazily and murmured, "Oh, Quentin, do you
 never rest?"
  
 She rose and threw on a robe. At once a maidservant came scurrying
 with a fresh summer gown of sky-blue samite with a belt of finely
 wrought gold.
  
 "My Lady slept well?" asked the young woman.
  
 "Well, thank you, Glenna. Isn't it a beautiful day?"
  
 "Yes, my Lady. Beautiful." She smiled, and light shone in her eyes.
 "Almost as beautiful as my Lady."
  
 "Your flattery is as easily given as the bird's song." Bria laughed
 and the room was brighter. "Have you seen the King?"
  
 "No, my Lady. Shall I send for the chamberlain?"
  
 The Queen shrugged. "There is no need. I know where he has gone."
  
 The servant helped her Queen dress and then set about tidying the room.
 Bria went out from the royal apartments and made her way to the
 kitchens.
  
 She passed lightly through a corridor and down a flight of steps to a
 banqueting hall. No sooner had she set foot in the hall when there was
 a squeal and a sudden flurry of motion toward her.
  
 "Mother! Did you hear? Oh, did you hear the news?" Two young girls
 rushed up to her on prancing feet and grabbed her hands, pulling her
 toward the breakfast table.
  
 "And what news have you heard, my darlings?" She smiled and stroked
 their golden heads.
  
 The younger of the two children. Princess Elena, her hair in long
 braids woven with golden thread so that they shined and shimmered as
 she danced on her tiny slippered feet, smiled happily up at her mother,
 her green eyes twinkling with the merriment of her secret. Her sister.
 Princess Brianna, slender as a new spring shoot and dressed in bright
 blue like her mother, pressed the Queen's hand and said, "Come and sit
 with us. Mother. We have so much to tell you!"
  
 Princess Elena shook her head vigorously. "Yes, oh yes. So much to
 tell you!"
  
 "Very well," said Queen Bria, settling herself lightly on the bench at
 the table. "What is your news? I cannot wait another instant!"
  
 The older girl glanced at her sister, and both burst into laughter.
 The sound was pure delight. Several kitchen servants stopped to look
 on and smile, arrested by the little Princesses'
  
 happiness.
  
 "Will you keep your poor mother in suspense? I confess I must know at
 once!" Bria took their hands and squeezed them both.
  
 Still laughing, the words tumbled out. "Esme is coming! Esme! Isn't
 that wonderful?" they shouted"Esme will be here tonight!"
  
 "That is indeed wonderful news!" cried Bria, hugging her daughters.
  
 "Oh, but please don't tell Father," said Brianna. "We want to tell
 him. Please?"
  
 "Yes, you shall tell him. It will be your surprise."
  
 "Oh, let's go find him!" cried Elena.
  
 The two would have darted off at once, but the Queen called them
 back.
  
 "The King is not here, my doves. He rode out this morning early to the
 temple."
  
 "May we go, too? Please, Mother?" they asked excitedly.
  
 "Come and eat a bite of breakfast first, and we shall see." Bria
 glanced around the room quickly. "And where is your brother? Still
 abed? The day is fleeing!"
  
 "Oh, no. He grabbed a seed cake and ran offs long time ago. He is
 meeting Toli in the stable yard. They are going riding."
  
 "Riding again! Always ruling. It is a wonder the boy does not grow
 hoofs and a mane."
  
 The girls giggled at the thought. The Queen sighed. She did not
 relish the idea of one so young riding such big horses. Still, she
 thought, as long as he is with Toli no harm can come to him.
  
 Now then, cat your breakfast. We have much to do this day to make
 ready for Lady Esme's visit!"
  
 They sat down to eat, but the girls were in such high spirits that they
 could only peck at their food. At last their mother dismissed them
 and they ran laughing from the hall. Bria smiled, watching their
 braids flouncing as they went.
  
 So Esme is coming. That is good news, she thought. How did the girls
 find out, I wonder. Well, however it is, she will be greatly welcome.
 It has been too long since she was in Askelon. Too long. I have
 missed her.
  
 L: Quentin stood at a large, rough-hewn table in the center of a great
 rectangle of stone. His head was bent in concentration over a huge
 parchment roll which was weighted down at either end with a stone.
  
 "See here," he said, pointing to a place on the plan. "If we raise
 this wall within the week, we can begin laying in the beams. What do
 you say to that, Bertram?"
  
 Bertram, the grizzled old master mason, squinted at the place where the
 King's finger pointed, then raised his head and scratched his scrufiy
 jaw, nodding at the wall before them across the way. "Aye, it is
 possible. Sire," he replied diplomatically. "But the corbels must be
 set first and they are not ready yet. Nor the trusses, neither."
  
 "Hmm," said the King, frowning.
  
 "But we'll see her raised soon enough, m' lord. Indeed we will. Count
 on it. Up she'll go soon enough." He nodded his head and then called
 over to one of his masons. "Excuse me. Sire. I must attend "
  
 The Swwdand the Flame
  
 Yes, of course. Go on. I am returning to the castle soon."
  
 "Good day to you, m' lord." Bertram bowed and hurried away.
  
 Quentin stood for a moment with his hands on his hips and gazed at the
 work going on around him. The morning was clear and bright, the long
 grass still wet from the rain through the night. The masons and their
 many workmen toiled away with vigor. Quarrymen with sledges loaded
 with stone added their loads to the rock piles at either end of the
 rectangle, while laborers selected rock from these mounds and tumbled
 them into wheelbarrows, ferrying them to the walls. Mortar makers and
 their carriers stirred the mud pits and loaded fresh mortar onto
 pallets, supplying the masons who continually clamored for more.
  
 In the midst of this ordered confusion, the walls of the new temple,
 the temple of the Most High, rose slowly and almost imperceptibly. The
 work was in its sixth year, and it sometimes seemed to Quentin that it
 would never end.
  
 He was impatient for the temple to be finished, for its completion
 would inaugurate the new era, and in this temple he would lead in the
 worship of Mensandor's new god. The temple would be a symbol to all
 the realm that the new age had dawned at last.
  
 The old gods are dead, he would proclaim. Worship the new god, the
 Most High, Creator and Ruler of all!
  
 Word of the new temple bad quickly spread throughout the land since
 construction had begun. There was not a house in all the realm that
 did not know of the King's Temple, as it was called. But six years had
 passed, and four more at least were needed before it could be
 completed. Until then... well, there was much work to do until then.
  
 Quentin heard the jingle of bells behind him and turned to see Blazer
 tossing his head impatiently. The great horse had cropped all the
 sweet grass within reach and was ready to move on. He tossed his head
 restlessly, setting the little bells braided into his mane and along
 his silver bridle ringing, as if to say, "Away! The sun is up, the day
 is good. Let us run!"
  
 Quentin smiled and walked to the animal, placing his hand on the
 horses's broad nose. "You are impatient and so am I, old friend. Very
 well," said the King, raising his foot to the stirrup, "we will go. I

 have bothered these good men enough for one day."
  
 He swung himself easily up into the saddle and jerked the reins. Blazer
 lifted his forelegs off the ground and spun around. Quentin lifted his
 hand to Bertram, who waved back, and then Blazer leapt away. They
 raced along the road leading down the broad slope of the hill, dodging
 the ox-drawn wa ins bearing food and supplies lo the workmen. Then,
 feeling the sun on his face and the beauty of the day springing up
 inside him, the King spurred Blazer off the road and let him run down
 the side of the hill and out onto the plain below Askelon,
  
 The castle rose up on its crown of rock, shining like a jewel in the
 morning light. Red and blue pennons fluttered and snapped from a
 thousand spires. The high battlements soared above, topped with
 turrets and barbicans strong, safe, forever secure.
  
 Quentin enjoyed the strength of the animal beneath him; his heart raced
 as they thundered over the still-damp ground. Blazer's hoofs struck up
 muddy turf and flung it skyward as they galloped on.
  
 Presently they came to a great stone cenotaph standing alone in the
 center of the plain. Quentin reined Blazer to a trot as they
 approached. They stopped in front of the cenotaph, and Quentin
 dismounted. He walked to the monument and knelt at its base.
  
 1 Inscribed in stone on both sides of the slab were the words Quentin
 knew by heart. Yet he read them once again. They said:
  
 Here upon this field did the warriors on Mensandor meet and defeat in
 battle the barbarian host of Nin, called The Destroyer.
  
 Here Eskevar, Dragon King, Lord of the Realm, fell, and many brave men
 with him, nevermore to rise. Peace was purchased with their blood and
 freedom with their blades.
  
 After reading the words he had read so often, Quentin stood and
 remounted and rode off once more toward Askelon.
  
 THREE
  
 AWAY EAST of the dty, in a meadow ringed with ancient oaks, secluded
 from prying eyes, Toli and Prince Germ rode together. "Try it again,
 young Prince," called Toli, turning the cantering Riv toward a well-worn
 path where the great trunk of a fallen tree lay.
  
 The Prince, a hardy young boy of nine with a touseled mane of dark
 brown hair, studied the obttacle before him, his quick green eyes
 narrowed in utmost concentration, his mouth pulled into a pucker.
 Flushed with excitement, color rising red to his cheeks, Gerin thrust
 out his jaw earnestly. The act was such an exact parody of the King
 that Toli chuckled behind his fist in order to keep from laughing
 aloud.
  
 Then, with a Hid; of the reins, the Prince kicked his heels into his
 pony's flanks and away they flew, back down the path toward the fallen
 trunk.
  
 At the last second the little Prince threw the reins ahead and leaned
 forward against the horse's neck. The pony lifted its legs and soared
 over the obstacle with ease, landing with a bump on the other side.
 The young rider rocked forward in the saddle and bounced to one side,
 but retained his seat on his mount.
  
 "Very good!" cried Toli. "Excellent* That is the way! Come here now
 and rest a little' He beamed at his charge, nodding well earned
 approval.
  
 "Just once more, Toli. Please? I want to remember what it feels
 like He turned the horse again and started for the log.
  
 Toli reined up and dismounted, watching the Prince carefully. This time
 as the boy's horse approached the obstacle, the animal hesitated,
 unsure of his rider's command. He jumped awkwardly and late, throwing
 himself over. Prince Gerin supped sideways in the saddle and hung on,
 trying desperately to stop the hone. But be could not; his grip
 failed, and be fell to the ground with a thud. The brown pony jogged
 on riderless.
  
 "Ooof!" The Prince rolled beeb over head on the soft turf.
  
 Toli rushed to him. "Are you hurt? He picked up the boy and brushed
 him off. There was mud on his chin and elbows.
  
 No it is not the first time I have fallen. That, at least, I seem to
 have the knack of."
  
 "I am sorry it will not be the last time, either," laughed Toli. "But I
 must keep you in one piece, or your father will have my bead!"
  
 The Prince looked up at his instructor, frowning, his smooth brow
 knitting in consternation. "Will I ever get it right?"
  
 "Of course, in time "
  
 "But the hunt is less than a fortnight away!"
  
 "Do not worry, young master. You arc making good progress. You shall
 ride with the hunt, I promise. And your father will have his surprise.
 All in good time. But first you must learn not to hesitate when you
 approach a jump. It confuses your mount, and he will jump badly."
  
 "May I try it again?"
  
 "We should be getting back. I've duties to attend to."
  
 "Please, Toli. Just once more. I would not like to end the day's
 practice with a fall."
  
 "Well said. One more jump, and then we race for home."
  
 The Prince dashed to his mount, Tarky, who had stopped to nibble the
 grass at the end of the path. Toli went back to Riv and remounted.
 "Think about what you arc doing, young sir!" called Toli.
 "Concentrate!"
  
 The boy climbed into his saddle, a look of dire determination on his
 face. He eyed the obstacle ahead, gauging the distance, then snapped
 the reins and spurred the horse ahead.
  
 Away they galloped down the path. In a twinkling they were hurtling
 toward the log. Prince Gerin leaned low in the saddle, lifted his
 hands, and the horse flew up and over the log as graceful
  
 I 729 I
  
 and light as a deer. The Prince pulled the reins and with a whoop of
 triumph wheeled the pony around and broke for the far trees across the
 meadow.
  
 "Well done. Prince Gerin!" shouted Toll. "Well done!" Then he, too,
 spurred his mount for the trees and beyond them to the road leading
 back to Askelon.
  
 The two reached the road side by side and raced laughing all the way to
 the castle. The sun was high in the clear blue sky, and both felt the
 joy of life running strong in them.
  
 Durwin's worktable was stacked high with dusty scrolls and hide-bound
 volumes. He sat hunched over the table on a high stool, chin in hand,
 mumbling to himself as he read. His hair was long and almost
 completely white now, but his eyes were quick as ever and his limbs
 sound. He appeared a man half his natural age.
  
 Abruptly he raised his head and sniffed the air. "Ah!" he cried,
 jumping up. He dashed at once to a small brazier where a black iron
 pot was bubbling away on the hot coals. It had boiled over, and black
 smoke rolled toward the rafters. He picked up a long wooden spoon
 nearby and was stirring the pot when a voice called out from the
 doorway.
  
 "Phew! Good hermit, what is that prodigious stench? It is most
 foul!"
  
 - Durwin glanced up to see the Queen Dowager standing in his wide
 doorway watching him, her nose crinkled in frank disgust.
  
 "Alinea! What! you do not care for my poultice? "Tis a powerful
 curative for aches of the joints."
  
 "It is to be wondered whether the aches would not be more enjoyable."
  
 "My patients, I assure you, do not mind its aromatic qualities."
  
 "Your patients?"
  
 "I call them patients, my Lady. This is for Tou."
  
 "Certainly Toli has no need of this."
  
 "His horses, madam. I am making it for his horses, although it would
 not hurt the rider in any case, if need were great."
  
 "And nose were strong!" she said, laughing. "But mine is not. Come
 away from your labors a little, hermit. I would have someone to walk
 with in the garden."
  
 Durwin smiled and bowed.  "I would be delighted. Just the thing. I
 have been too long among these vapors, or I would have thought of it
 myself."
  
 They went out together, through the castle, past the Dragon King's
 Great Hall, and out onto the garden steps. "See how brightly the sun
 shines," said Alinea, "and how fragrant the flowers."
  
 They walked down the steps and into the garden amidst the fragrant
 offerings of roses of all kinds. The spring flowers were gone, but the
 blooms of summer were just opening and everywhere one looked the eye
 was filled with color.
  
 "Ah! It is peace itself to be here," sighed Durwin. He turned to
 regard his companion. The years had been kind to her. Her hair was
 long braided, gathered, and bound in a snood. There was much silver
 now among the auburn tresses, and lines had formed around her eyes and
 lovely lips. But her eyes were still as green as forest pools, and her
 voice held the timbre of laughing water.
  
 Yes, thought Durwin, the years have been good to us all. I would not
 trade them for any others. The God Most High is good;
  
 he has poured out a blessing on the land. We have much to be thankful
 for. I "What are you thinking, my friend?" Alinea asked softly.
  
 "That these have been happy years, my Queen, and full. I am content."
 He paused, and his voice struck a faraway note. "Though I lay down to
 die tomorrow, I would have no regrets. None at all."
  
 "And I might say the same," replied Alinea. "But come, let us not
 speak further of dying. That will take care of itself."
  
 "So it is! Aye, so it is." Durwin nodded slowly. Brightening he
 said, "Then tell me, what news have you? I heard that a messenger
 arrived early this morning. He brought good tidings?"
  
 "Yes! Yes, I was going to tell you. He brought word from Hinsenby "
  
 "Hinsenby? From Theido?"
  
 "From Lady Esme. She is on her way here even now. She will arrive
 before dusk this evening. The day is good for traveling."
  
 "Ah, Lady Esme. Her I have not seen for many years, it seems."
  
 "She has been missed within these walls. And, sad to tell, no one felt
 her absence as keenly as Lady Esme herself."
  
 "Yes, an awful business. Very sad. It bears remembering that there
 are some among us whose lives may not be as free of regret as our own.
 I am certain she would have chosen differently if she had known."
  
 Alinea was silent for some time. They paced the garden paths, each
 feeling the warmth of the day and of companionship from the other. "I
 wonder if any of us would choose as we do, if we knew the future."
  
 "Perhaps not. But it is a blessing nonetheless. The burdens of the
 day weigh heavy enough; we could not bear tomorrow's as well."
  
 "Of course. How wise you are, hermit. Yes, it will be good to see
 Esme once more. Perhaps we may help heal old wounds."
  
 Just then they heard the happy twitter of childish voices and looked up
 to see Princess Brianna and Princess Ekna running toward them as fast
 as their spindly little legs would carry them. Behind them Bria walked
 at a more leisurely pace.
  
 "Grandmother! Oh, Grandmother!" called the little girls. "We have a
 secret! A very great secret!"
  
 "A secret? Whatever could it be?"
  
 "You must guess il Grandmother!" shouted Brianna.
  
 "Yes, guess! Guess!" shouted Elena.
  
 Alinea placed her hands together 'and raised them to her Ups. "Let me
 see," she said, her eyes shining at the sight of her beautiful
 grandchildren. "Are you going on a trip?"
  
 Both little heads wagged from side to side, their braids flying.
  
 "No?" continued their grandmother. "Then you have learned a new game
 and have come to show us!"
  
 "That's not it!" they cried, and burst into giggles. "Lady Esme is
 coming! She'll be here tonight!" Both girls began bopping up and
 down.
  
 "That is good news!" said Alinea.
  
 "Did you hear, Durwin?" they shouted. "She'll be here tonight." Then
 they looked at each other as a new and better thought occurred to them.
  "Maybe she'll bring us presents!" said Brianna.
  
 "Yes, presents!"
  
 They clapped their hands and then darted away among die rose bushes
 toward the fountain. ,
  
  
 "Very like hummingbirds," mused Durwin.
  
 "There you are. Mother," said Bria as she came to stand with them. "I
 see they have told you their secret."
  
 "Yes, dear. How happy you must be."
  
 "I am almost as excited as they arc if that were possible!" she
 replied and laughed, her eyes following the girls as they ran. "Good
 day, Durwin. I am glad to see Mother has dragged you from your noisome
 den. I was beginning to wonder whether you would ever come out."
  
 "Oh, in time, in time. But once this old head gets hold of an idea, it
 will not let it go." He smiled broadly. "That is why I have you two
 to look after me. I know you will not allow me to remain too long
 alone. I thank you for that."
  
 "There is another who I wish were as easily persuaded," said Bria.
  
 "Quentin?"
  
 Bria smiled a little sadly and nodded. "Oh, I know he is very busy
 now. He is preoccupied with his temple. But he is gone from morning
 until night nearly every day, closeted with his builders and
 architects. He never stops. I rarely see him anymore."
  
 Alinea looked longingly at her daughter. "With a King it is ever so.
 You must remember, my love, that he does not belong to himself, or even
 his family. He belongs to the kingdom, to the people. Quentin carries
 a very great burden in this temple- Old ways die hard, and he seeks to
 fulfill the god's leading."
  
 Bria hung her head. "I know I should be more patient. But he has
 become a stranger in his own house."
  
 "Quentin is called to high deeds. Through him great things will be
 accomplished."
  
 "So it is," said Durwin. "But my Lady Bria speaks truth- He also must
 look to the nurturing of his home. King or no, that is a man's first
 responsibility. The Most High is happy in small deeds, as well as
 large. I often think he must care less for temples than for the simple
 strength of a family." He paused and looked at Bria. "I will speak to
 him if you wish."
  
 TTuSvwfd and the Flam
  
 "Thank you, but 00.1 will wait. The temple is important I know that.
 Perhaps when it is finished we will once again find time for ourselves.
 Until then I shall wait." She smiled prettily and glanced at her
 mother. "The women in our family have had long experience with
 waiting. We are very good at it."
  
 FOUR
  
 UNLIKE THE priests he led. High Priest Phicll lived in sumptuous
 splendor, with the richest appointments. While the lower priests
 cells were spare, devoid of all objects and ornamentation, except those
 few articles necessary to a minimum of comfort a bed with straw-filled
 mattress, a stool, a rough table, a wooden bowl, a tallow candle the
 High Priest's apartment was hung with heavy tapestries, and carven
 chairs stood around a great table spread with expensive cloth and laid
 with fine silver. From golden candle holders burned candles made with
 perfumed beeswax. His bed was high and curtained, the mattress stuffed
 with eider down.
  
 This, he told himself, was no more than his due the perquisites of his
 position, the rewards of his rank.
  
 High Priest Pluell and his visitor had been holding conference for many
 hours. The High Priest stared ahead dully, his eyes red rimmed from
 lack of sleep, a deep frown cast over his arrogant features.
  
 Old Nimrood watched him carefully from his seat, with gnarled hands
 folded beneath his sharp chin. He seemed the picture of a shrewd
 merchant who has just struck an extremely fortuitous bar gain. The
 faint wisp of a smile curled his thin, bloodless Ups. "Then it is
 agreed?" asked Nimrood, breaking the silence at last.
  
 Pluetl raised his head slowly, a sneer twisting his mouth.
  
 / 733 I
  
 "What other choice do I have? Yes! It is agreed. I will do as you
 say."
  
 "See that you do and all will be well. You will save the temple, and
 what is more, you will hold the power of the kingdom. The realm will
 be yours and the King your servant. Think of it!"
  
 "It is risky. I am not fond of taking chances."
  
 "Without risk there is no gain, my friend. And as you yourself have
 said, you have no choice. I tell you, this upstart King means to pull
 down the High Temple and drive out the priests. With every passing day
 the King's Temple grows; when it is done, yours will be destroyed."
  
 "Still, would he dare? It would inflame the people against him. I
 would see to that."
  
 "He dares all things in the name of this god of his. He must be dealt
 with at once. Too long have you hidden beneath your robes of office.
 Wait any longer and it will be too fate."
  
 "Yes, yes. So you say." Pluell looked at his guest sharply. "I do
 not like this King at all, and I do not fear him. The sanctity and
 authority of the High Temple must be preserved- When and where do we
 begin?"
  
 J Nimrood smiled expansively. "I will choose the time and the Iplace.
 Leave all to me. But I will need six of your temple guard six who know
 how to obey and to keep secrets concealed."
  
 "You shall have them. What else?"
  
 "Nothing, for now." Nimrood stood slowly. "Only a place to rest and a
 morsel to eat. Then I will be on my way."
  
 "Very well. Tell the priest waiting outside what you require. He will
 arrange everything for you. I will go and choose the men who are to
 accompany you."
  
 Nimrood dipped his head and then went out. The High Priest sat for a
 moment in his chair, still staring blankly into the shadows. Then
 he' drew his robes close around as a chill shivered through him, for the
 room had grown quite cold.
  
 The afternoon sun shone a hazy gold as it sank below the green,
 tree-lined hills. The road bent down into low valleys, sinking into
 cool shadow. On the crest of the hill the small traveling party
 stopped.
  
 TluSvmla dtkt Flams
  
 -Yooder Uea A keloo my Lady," uid Wilkins, ooeofLady Enne's traveling
 companions, "and a fair tight it ."
  
 Esme ruled her pale bhie eyes with the glittering scene before her.
 Askelon Castle, its to well and tuner find by the golden ray of the
 letting mn sparkled like a cwcL The great walk nood strong,
 impenetrable, gloving red in the fading light.
  
 She shivered, remembering another time when she sat astride a bone in
 exactly this spot and gazed upon the ca stk standing rust so in another
 sunset long ago. Nothing has cAanyd^ Bhe thought. OA,
  
 ukat/oQyl Everything AOJ cAafi ns most ofaS.
  
 "I may have been wrong to leave she said finally, speaking softly to
 herself. "But I have returned. Perhaps I can make a new beginning."
  
 Without another word Bamc gathered the reins and started down toe hill
 into die valley. Sauing food and water and a warm stall at band her
 hone began to trot and then to gallop along the road. The otb en behind
 her joined in the race and sooa they were all flying toward Askelon*
 their jubilant voices ringing through the dells.
  
 They reached the village below the wallx and clattered through the
 streets, hardly slowing at all Then they were over the draw bridge,
 through the gaiehome, and fogging to a halt in the ward yard, where
 squires scampered to take the hones and lead them to tbestables.
  
 "Ecne! You are here!" There was a about behind her, and she turned to
 see Brift emerging from a doorway aero the yard. Two little faces
 pcAed out fir on either ude of their mot her'1 skirts, their eyes
 shining.
  
 Eame knelt down and held out her anna. "Come here, my dar ling sT she
 called, and wa instantly smothered in giggles and kisses. "And bow big
 you have grown' she said in amazement. "Oh, I have missed you ol" She
 kissed both girls and hugged them tighi. Then she stood and embraced
 their mother. "Bria, it is wonderful to see you."
  
 The two women clung for a long moment and then stepped back to view
 each other at arm's length. "Esme, you are more beautiful than ever.
 You are' It is ..." A tear formed in Bria's eye. "I have missed you
 so muchi"
  
 / 735 /
  
 "And I you. You have no idea how good it feels to be here at last. I
 have wanted to come many times, but "
  
 Bria caught up her hands and pulled her away, saying, "Come! There is
 much to talk about. Leave your things for now; Z will have them
 brought up to your rooms." She turned to address the others in Esme's
 traveling party. "Please, you are our welcome guests. Rest, take your
 ease from your long journey. If you like, you may dine with us in the
 banquet hall this evening. Or if you would prefer, food will be sent
 to your rooms."
  
 Wilkins bowed low. "Your Highness, my Lady has told us so much about
 you and about this place, we are all eager to see it. We will join you
 as soon as we have washed the dust of the road from ourselves. I, for
 one, wish 10 meet the Dragon King. His name is renowned in the land."
 The others nodded their agreement.
  
 "I am sure my husband will welcome the news you bring. I will send the
 chamberlain directly to lead you to your rooms."
  
 Esmc said, "Chloe, you may remain with me." A slim brown haired young
 woman dressed in riding clothes like Esme's stepped shyly forward. She
 curtsied to the Queen, then held out two bundles to her mistress.
  
 "Ah, yes. I almost forgot!" said Esmc, taking the packages. "I have
 brought something for my little friends."
  
 The Princesses squealed in delight. "Presents!" they cried. Esme
 handed them each a bundle tied in bright silk. "Oh, thank you! Thank
 you!" Both girls kissed her and then ran off to open their gifts.
  
 "They are treasures, Bria. Treasures." "That they are. But come, you
 must be exhausted. Your rooms are ready and waiting for you." She led
 Esme away and smiled at Chloe who fell silently in behind them. "Both
 of you can rest a little before dinner."
  
 The Queen led them from the ward yard into the corridor of the inner
 curtain and into the castle itself. Along the way they talked about
 the journey and all that the travelers had seen. When finally they
 reached the Queen's apartments, Bria announced, "You will be staying
 here, Esme. I want you close. Rest now and refresh yourselves. Water
 has been prepared for you. I will come back in a little . while and
 bring you to dinner."
  
 TW Awnf otttf (Jk fXniM
  
 "You ie m kind, Bru. Thank you. But now that I am here, fatigue seems
 to have vanished. I want only to sit with you and nave aloof talk
  
 "Oh, we shall, Esme. We must have many long talks before I am
 satisfied." She pawed and added on a more somber note, "You have often
 been in my thoughts."
  
 "Thank you. And you have often been in mine. Yes, we have much to
 talk about."
  
 Quentin and Toli were standing with Wilkins put inside the wide open
 doors to the banqueting halLO then stood a little way off talking among
 themselves, awed to be in the presence of the King hinuelf. WUkua
 enthusiastically recounted the journey to Ask eUm and related the new he
 had heard along the way.
  
 Quentm, nappy to entertain guests for it had been ome time ince the
 castle had held foreign visitors pumped the willing man for information
 which was happily supplied.
  
 "When do you return Quentin asked. "Surely you will stay for the
 hunt."
  
 "I have heard of the King's Hunti" exclaimed Wilkins. "In truth, I was
 hoping to be invited. Many of the villages we passed through on our
 way here old us of the hunt. Most described it as a mot exceptional
 event"
  
 "It is more festival than hunt," explained Toli. "There will be games
 of skill, minstrels, and a circus- Three days of celebration are given
 to it. People come from across all Mensandor to take part, or just to
 watch."
  
 "What is the occasion of this festival?1* asked Wilkins. "I do not
 know laughed the King. "The reason lies buried in the past.
 Tradition has it that the hunt was begun in Cdbercor's time. He used
 ix as a means of helping recruit knights into his service- Legend tells
 that if a man could kill three boars in a day with out dismounting or
 changing horses, he was made a knight before the sun set
  
 "The bunt was nol held in later years while Eskevar was away at war.
 But we revived the custom said Toll
  
 "Yes, ix was all Toll's doing!" said Quentin. "He wanted to display
 his horsesi What better way than a bunt'
  
 / 737 /
  
 Wilkins nodded knowingly. "These horses of yours, master I have heard
 of them also. Even in faraway Elsendor the Dragon King's horses are
 highly regarded."
  
 Just then there was a motion in the doorway, and Quentm looked up to
 see Queen Bria and Lady Esme step into the halL Both were wearing light
 summer gowns of sendal: Bna*s was rose and Esme's russet. He smiled
 broadly and went up to them. "Good evening, my love." He kissed his
 wife. "Esme, I am so glad you have come. It is happiness itself to
 see you." He pulled her to him in a fond embrace and kissed her check.
 Welcome. I hope you have come prepared to remain with us a long
 time."
  
 "Thank you, Quentin. You are looking fit as ever. Bria tells me the
 work on the temple continues apace' Her eyes darted away from his
 momentarily.
  
 "Yes," replied Quentin. "The work goes on. But we can talk of that
 later. I imagine you would like to greet '* He turned, casting a quick
 glance behind him. "Where has he disappeared to all of a sudden? He
 was here but a moment ago."
  
 "Who. my lord?"
  
 "Toll. He was...." He gestured to the spot. Both Toli and Wilkios
 had gone. "Well, he is still as shy as the deer he grew up with. I am
 certain he will want to greet you in private, later."
  
 From the other end of the hall kitchen servants entered, carrying huge
 platters of food: venison and pork, roast fowl and game, freshly picked
 vegetables, and round loaves of brown bread hot from the oven.
  
 "Let us be seated said Bria. Already the banks on either side of
 the long lower table were being filled. Esmc'a traveling company had
 found friends among the courtiers of the King's household. A wandering
 hard had been invited to attend the meal and was now moving among the
 guests at tables, singing nonsense rhymes and taking requests for
 stories he would tell after dinner. Laughter followed him as he moved
 along the tables.
  
 The great room was bright and the spirit cheerful. "See what your
 coming has done?" cried Quentio, leading them to the high table. "I
 have not seen such good humor in ... well, in many a season."
  
 "You are kind, Quentin. But it is well known that the Dragon
  
 King's table is ever gracious and that merriment abounds." Esmc
 glanced around her, and her face took on a lighter aspect. "It is just
 as I remembered it ... just as I hoped it would be."
  
 Bria pressed her hand and drew her to a chair. Durwin entered and
 approached them, making many apologies for being late, and then greeted
 Lady Esme with a warm hug. As they talked, Quentin looked for Toll, who
 usually sat beside him, opposite the Queen.
  
 He found the Jher, head to head with Wilkins, sitting at the far end of
 the high table. They were deep in conversation, oblivious to all that
 was going on around them.
  
 Quentin looked to the lower table; all eyes were on him, waiting for
 him to begin. He reached out and took a piece of bread, broke it, and
 put it on his silver trencher, nodding to his guests. At once they
 began to eat; platters were passed, cups filled, and glad conversation
 bubbled forth.
  
 While they ate, the hard approached the high table. He bowed to the
 King and said, "Your majesty, is there aballad you wish told? You
 have but to name it and Larksong is at your service."
  
 "Something befitting the lively mood of this summer's eve," declared
 Quentin. "Let brave knights and their bold deeds wait until another
 time. Tonight I would hear a lighter tale, one to make the heart
 rejoice."
  
 "If it is good cheer you wish, sire, I know just the thing!" He bowed
 again, saying, "Excuse me now. I must retire to compose the lyric."
  
 How great an honor to be a King, thought Quentin. Truly a very great
 honor. Indeed I am blessed.
  
 He looked down upon his guests and shared their amusement and high
 spirits. Life is good in Mensandor; all is well in the realm. He felt
 his heart fill with happiness and swell almost to bursting, so deep was
 his joy.
  
 FJVE
  
 THE PALE moon had risen fair in the sky, throwing down a silvery
 radiance upon all below. Toll stood alone on the bartizan outside the
 banquet hall, overlooking a portion of the garden. Laughter drifted out
 of the hall through the open doors, and flickering torchlight from the
 hall splashed the stones and turned them to gold.
  
 The hard Larksong sang his ballads to the high acclaim of all gathered
 inside. Toli could hear his strong voice lifted up in song, but could
 not catch the words which were drowned now and again in waves of
 laughter. At the end of a song or story there came clamorous applause
 and cries for more.
  
 But Toll did not attend to what was taking place inside. He had grown
 uncomfortable and slipped away quietly to be alone. No one, he
 thought, had seen him go. He breathed the soft night air and wondered
 what he would do when he met her once again.
  
 He did not have long to wonder. He heard the sound of a soft brushing
 tread, turned, and she was there, standing in the doorway, the light
 framing her, shining all around her. A sharp pang arrowed through him.
  He turned away.
  
 Then she was beside him. He smelted her delicate scent, warm and
 pleasing. Her nearness burned him with a glowing heat.
  
 "Ah," she sighed, "how peaceful and cool here. The hall, for all its
 light and laughter, grows stale." She spoke softly. He did not reply.
 Then she touched his arm, and he felt a flame leap through him.
 "Hello, Toli,"* she whispered. "I saw you leave the hall."
  
 He turned toward her. "Esmc ..." He could think of nothing to say.
 She, with the moonlight in her eyes and shining on her long
  
 The Svwrd and l)u Flame dark tresses, was even more lovely than he
 remembered. And she had come back.
  
 Esme laid her fingertips to his Ups. Her touch was cool. "Shh.
  
 You do not need to speak. This is awkward for me, too."
  
 Toll stared at the woman he had loved. Why? he wanted to scream. Why
 did you leave me? What made you go? And now, after so many years, why
 have you returned?
  
 But he said nothing, only turned away again. Esme felt the distance
 between them as a physical presence: a risen wall of bristling emotion
 which she could not breach. Suddenly all that she had kept locked away
 in her heart for so long came rushing forth. Her throat tightened.
 Her hands quivered. She bent her head, and tears began to fall.
  
 There was a movement beside her. "Toli, I " she began, then glanced
 up. He was gone.
  
 Inside the hall Larksong held his listeners in thrall. He was in high
 form, bowing to cascades of applause, his broad, good-natured face
 beaming from beneath his wide, low-crowned hat with its long green
 plume. He allowed the acclamation to wash over him and then, as it
 started to die away, held up his hands for silence and began to sing.
  
 "In fair fAensandor,
  
 On a summer's eve, When all the kills are wearing green, Give an ear,
 my lords and ladies,
  
 To the tale I'll wave Of bold Queniin and his Queen!*'
  
 This was greeted with shouts of laughter and ringing cheers, for now
 the King would be celebrated for their amusement. Larksong bowed low
 and began, his voice rising in clear tones to tell his tale. It was a
 song about a King who sought the hand of the most beautiful woman in
 the realm and found her in the daughter of his enemy.
  
 The song was an old one, of course, known to all who heard it.
  
 But Larksong sang it well, inventing new verses which played upon
  
 , / 741 I
  
 Quentin's and Bria*s names and the well-known events of their lives-
 The listeners sat captivated enraptured from start to finish. When at
 last the Quentin of the story won his bride's hand and made peace with
 his enemy, a resounding cheer went up throughout the hall.
  
 "Well done!" they cried. "More! More* Sing it again!" Everyone
 shouted their praise and cried for more, though the evening was growing
 late. But Larksong took off his hat and made a sweeping bow to all
 assembled.
  
 "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, one and all!" He bowed to the
 King. "My songs are finished this night. Perhaps I may come again."
  
 "Yes, come again!" they cried. "Come tomorrow!" : Larksoog looked
 inquiringly at the King. Quentin nodded his ; approval, and all his
 guests added theirs. And then reluctantly for it had been a wonderful
 night the people began to leave.
  
 Quentin rose. "Oh, my sides are sore for laughing! What a night!
 What a night." He peered around. "Now where has Toli gone? I would
 speak with him."
  
 "I think he is occupied at present," replied Bria. "Come along. Speak
 with him tomorrow."
  
 "Esme?"
  
  
 "Who did you think? Come along." Bria tugged on his arm and led him
 away. They left the hall and the servants began dousing the torches,
 giving the great room over to the night.
  
 No sooner had they reached their chambers when a knock sounded upon the
 door. "Who can that be asked Quentin. He opened the door to see
 Esme's companion, Chloe, wringing her hands and tugging at her apron.
  
 "Sire, I " She stared past him to Bria. "My Lady, I do not know what
 to do."
  
 Bria stepped forward. "What is it, Chloe? What is wrong?"
  
 "My Lady," she curtsied. "I... could you come?"
  
 "What is it demanded Quentin.
  
 "My Lord," said Bria, "go and see to the children. Tell them good
 night. I will look in a little later. Go on now. I will take care of
 this." She eased past Quentin and closed the door behind her.
  
 "Where is she?"
  
 "In her rooms. She returned some time ago and has been weeping ever
 since. I can do nothing for her. Oh, my Lady! I have never seen her
 this way. Even when my lord Lord Rathnor was angry with her, she did
 not carry on so. I am afraid "
  
 "Calm yourself, my dear. All will be well. Have no fear."
  
 When they entered Esme's apartments, Bria could hear someone sobbing in
 the chamber beyond. "Stay here, Chloe. I will go in to her," she said
 softly, and moved to the door. She knocked gently. There was no
 answer. She opened the door and went in.
  
 Esme lay facedown on the bed, her shoulders heaving, the sobs welling
 up from deep inside her. Bria sat down on the huge high bed beside
 her. She placed her hand on her friend's shoulder, feeling
 instinctually the depths of her misery.
  
 "Esme, I am here. I am with you. Tell me what has happened."
  
 It was a time before Esme could talk. But at last Bria got her to sit
 up, dry her eyes, and tell her what had taken place.
  
 "Oh, Bria!" she sniffed, her eyes wet from crying. She twisted a damp
 handkerchief in her hands. "He hates me! Despises me! And I do not
 blame him. I should not have come hoping to ... Oh, I
  
 should never have come."
  
 "There, now. Toli does not hate you." Bria said his name; she had
 guessed what had happened. "I am certain of it. You know how he
 is."
  
 "He ran from me. I went out to him, and he left without a word!" Her
 lips trembled and she seemed on the verge of another torrent of tears,
 but took a deep breath and kept them down. "Oh, Bria how I must have
 hurt him. I thought I thought... Oh, I do not know what I thought. I
 was wrong to come here. I was never born for happiness,"
  
 "Nonsense. Do not talk so!" chided Bria. "You are welcome here; it
 can never be wrong to come where you are loved and cared for. As for
 Toli, perhaps it was a mistake to approach him so openly. Obviously,
 we will need to plan very carefully how best to win him back. But
 unless I am far wrong, he does not hate you. Never say it! If we could
 see inside his heart, we would see his love for you has never waned."
  
 I 743 I
  
 Esme sniffed miserably. Bria put her arms around her and drew her
 close. "You have suffered much, Esme. And yet in all your pain you
 never allowed yourself to cry out," To Esme's questioning glance she
 replied, "Chloe told me. But why? I would rather hear it from you."
  
 Esme gazed at her hands folded on her knees. "I have made such a ruin
 of my life, Bria. How can you still call me friend?" She placed her
 hand on Bria's. "But you always were so much more kind than I."
  
 "Nonsense!"
  
 "No, it is true."
  
 Bria pulled Esme more lightly to her, and both women fell silent. When
 she turned to her friend once more, she found Esme sound asleep. The
 Queen drew a comforter over her and left the room quietly. At the door
 she paused and looked back. "There is healing here, Esme. Stay with
 us and let it begin."
  
 Quentin was sitting at his great table frowning over sketches of his
 temple's design. The table bore the full weight of a score of
 drawings, dozens of workmen's plans, countless lists and inventories of
 building materials, several clay and stone models of the finished
 structure, a large plumb bob and line, three mason's levels, a leather
 parchment case, and a stone from the site which acted as a
 paperweight.
  
 "You are tired, my lord," said Bria, coming up behind him. She rested
 her hands on his shoulders and lightly rubbed his neck. "You stare
 witless at the scraichings before you."
  
 The King raised his face from the page before him and pressed his fists
 against his eyes. "You are right, my love. Yes, I am tired. There is
 much to do "
  
 "Nothing that will not wail until tomorrow. Come to bed."
  
 Quentin put his hands flat on the table and pushed the sketches from
 him as he stood. He gazed at his wife and smiled gently, then asked,
 "Is all well with our guest?"
  
 "Her travels have worn her down, as may be expected. But I think she
 suffers still from the memory of a loveless marriage, and that is the
 pain she bears."
  
 "He has been dead two years." Bria nodded. "Yes, but deep wounds heal
 slowly. We do not know how cruelty treated she was."
  
 "She will not talk to you?"
  
 "She speaks of it to no one. But it is plain to see that all is not
 well. There are many who do not share the joy we know, and Esmc is one
 of those who have traveled a most difficult road."
  
 "We will hear of it in time, I imagine. When she is ready, she will
 tell us." Quentin yawned and stretched, and together the King and
 Queen went in to their bedchamber.
  
 Quentin lay for a long time staring into the blackness of the darkened
 room, thinking about the events of the day past and those of the day to
 come. He fell asleep with a vision of the completed temple filling his
 eyes, and dreamed of the day when he would lead his countrymen into the
 temple to worship the Most High on its day of consecration.
  
 THE DAY of the King's Hunt dawned with melancholy reluctance, low
 dreary clouds spread over the Plain of Askelon and gray mists draped
 the treetops. Those camped abroad and those boarded in the town and in
 the castle feared rain would spoil the day. But as a wan yellow sun
 climbed higher into the great vault of the heavens, it gathered
 strength, flared brighter; its white-hot rays burned away the clouds
 and warmed the air. Travelers and townspeople streamed into the
 streets and began the trek to the field. Those still abed in Castle
 Askelon awakened and rushed to ready themselves for the day's
 festivities. Lords and their ladies from as far away as Endonny and
 Woodsend, and all places in between dressed in their finest. Knights
 donned riding clothes of leather and
  
 / 745 I
  
 saw to the grooming of their horses, plaiting tail and mane with
 ribbons of gold and silver entwined with bells, or dressing their
 steeds in brightly colored caparisons: red and blue, gold and green,
 violet and yellow.
  
 And everywhere, from the chamber of the King to the tents on Askelon
 Plain, excitement simmered beneath the surface, breaking out in
 laughter and song and impromptu games. Wagons and hand carts emerged
 from the castle keeps loaded down with foodstuffs and supplies for the
 makeshift kitchens arranged on the Held under bright yellow canopies.
  
 Everywhere around the sporting field colorful pavilions of red and
 silver, bearing the royal device the red writhing dragon began filling.
 Smoke from cooking fires drifted lazily into the windless sky in silken
 threads. It appeared to anyone observing from the battlements of
 Askelon Castle that a bold, colorful army bad encamped round about, an
 army whose numbers swelled by degrees ever greater as more and more
 people made their way to the field.
  
 "Father! Father, come quickly! Look! Oh, look!" cried the children.
 They ran and seized Quentin's hands and pulled him out onto the
 bartizan outside their rooms. "See! The hunt is almost ready! Look
 at all the people! Oh, I have never seen so many!" they cried.
  
 "Can we play in the games, Father?" asked Princess Brianna.
  
 "Of course," said Quentin. "There will be games for you." He reached
 out and patted her head.
  
 "And watch the circus?" added Princess Elena.
  
 "Yes! Yes!" laughed Quentin.
  
 Young Prince Gerin did not ask a favor, considering himself loo big for
 such childish pleasures. He looked out on the scene below and beamed,
 his face flushed with excitement.
  
 "And what about you, my son? What will you do today?"
  
 Prince Gerin turned and smiled mysteriously. "I will show you but not
 now. It is a secret! A surprise!"
  
 "Very well," said Quentin. "If I must wait, I must- But tell me soon,
 for I do not think I can endure the suspense for long!" He laughed
 again and pulled the youngster to him, rubbing his slim shoulders
 affectionately.
  
 "There you are!" said Bria, stepping out onto the banizan. "The sooner
 we nave our breakfast, the sooner we will )oin the others and the
 festival can bcg ini
  
 The Princesses frowned disapprovingly. Prince Gerin whirled away and
 dashed for the door. "I cannot eat now!" be called. "I must find
 Tolil" He was gone before his mother could protest.
  
 "Breakfast is an unwanted intrusion today," said Quentin. "Besides,
 there will be time enough and food enough for eating at the field. If
 any go away hungry this day, it is their own fault and no one
 else^s."
  
 Bria sighed and herded the girls before her, and they went down to eat
 a hasty meal before departing for die hunt.
  
 For many days the castle had been bustling with activity. There was
 food and drink to organize, folded pavilions to haul from storage, and
 the field to prepare. Minstrels and circus performers, some with
 trained dogs and bears, had begun arriving in the town. Merchants
 readied wares which they would offer to the crowds, food vendors
 prepared their spcical delicacies.
  
 Toll and Prince Gerin had arranged their surprise in their own way,
 practicing the more difficult Jumps time and again. The Prince had,
 after many painful tumbles, learned to Jump with ease, handling his
 horse with an expert hand at last.
  
 "Very good! Excellent!" called Toli that final day. "You are ready
 for the bunt, young master. I have taught you all I can!"
  
 "Do you really think so, Toli?"
  
 Toli nodded solemnly. "A finer rider in this realm would be difficult
 to find. You are ready. Just remember everything we have practiced
 and you will ride with the best."
  
 "Truly?"
  
 "Truly."
  
 "Father will be so surprised 1" the Prince shouted. "You will not tell
 him "
  
 "Never fear I want him to be surprised, too." Those last days had been
 hard ones for the Prince, trying desperately to keep his secret. It
 burned inside him, threatening to leap to his tongue each time he
 opened his mouth. But somehow he had managed; the secret was safe.
  
 / 747 /
  
 Now, as he dashed to the stables to find Toli and to see to his horse,
 he ran with the speed of his own racing heart. He found Toli saddling
 his mount for him, examining each tack item as he placed it on the
 horse. The Prince slowed as he came up; Tarky nickered softly as the
 boy reached out and patted the sleek jaw.
  
 "You will ride beside me, won't you, Toli?"
  
 "Certainly. I shall be right beside you all the way. How else am I to
 keep up?"
  
 "Do you think we might find a trophy?"
  
 "We have as good a chance as any, 1*11 warrant. And better than some.
 We just might find a trophy."
  
 The hunters were allowed to hunt for game, but as an added reward there
 were prizes hidden throughout the forest: trophies of gold and silver,
 cups and bowls, and other objects of value. This heightened the
 competition and gave extra delight to the sport. Many of the hunters
 did not even carry weapons, preferring instead to concentrate solely on
 finding the valuable trinkets. This was what Prince Gerin had in mind
 as well, he wanted to find a trophy for his father. That would complete

 the surprise.
  
 When all was ready the Prince hoisted himself into his saddle, heart
 thumping in his chest. Together Toli and Gerin rode to join the others
 at the gates.
  
 "Very well," spat Nimrood from the shadows. "You know what to do- You
 have had a good look at him. There must be no mistakes."
  
 The six men gathered around him nodded silently. There would be no
 mistakes because they had come to fear Nimrood greatly and would not
 risk his disappointment, though none of them had much stomach for what
 was about to take place.
  
 "Then disperse carefully. I wilt await you here. Remember the signal,
 and look sharp! Yes, my lads, look sharp! I do not need to remind you
 that this is a most dangerous game we are playing. Most dangerous," he

 hissed, his eyes darting from one man to the next. "Now go. And be
 ready!"
  
 The six men, the best chosen from among the order of temple guards,
 faded silently away, their dark clothing melding with the green leaves
 and deep shadows of Pelgrin Forest.
  
 Nimrood's cruel features creased into a malicious grin. "My revenge,"
 he whispered throanly to himself. "Now it begins. At long last) it
 begins."
  
 SEVEN
  
 THE INNER ward yard bustled with activity as the King assembled his
 family and friends.  Bria and the Princesses would ride to the field in
 a gaily festooned coach. Quentin and his son would lead the procession
 on horseback, followed by Durwin and Toli and as-many of the noble
 visitors as had not already left for the field. Esmc, however, would
 not be among them.
  
 When all was ready, the armorer came hurrying up with two squires at
 either elbow. One lad carried the King's shield, burnished bright as a
 mirror; the other carried, on a long satin pillow, the King's sword,
 Zhaligkeer, the Shining One.
  
 The armorer knelt and offered the King his weapons. Quentin nodded,
 and the squires helped their master fasten the great sword in place and
 then handed up the shield, which the King slung over his shoulder.
  
 Word of the shining sword had long ago spread far and wide throughout
 the land. There was not a peasant anywhere who had not heard of its
 forging in the lost mountain mines of the Ariga out of the fabled
 glowing ore, lanthanil. Far beyond the borders of Mensandor tales of
 the Shining One were told, and of the mighty Priest King who had come
 to the throne by a strange and wonderful enchantment. Those who looked
 upon him now believed those stories more fervently than ever, because
 be appeared so strong and fearless.
  
 Quentin mounted Blazer and the milk-white stallion danced sideways,
 anxious to be off. He raised a gloved hand, the inner ward
  
 / 749 /
  
 gates were opened wide, and the parade began. They passed into the
 outer ward and then through the gatehouse, over the huge drawbridge and
 down the ramp into the city. And though many townspeople had already
 left for the festival site, there were still enough to line the streets
 to wave and cheer and welcome their King. The happy people fell into
 place behind the procession as it passed, and all made their way to the
 field.
  
 Young Germ, his heart fluttering within him like a captive bird, gawked
 openly at all around him, feeling proud and important. This day the
 hunt wore a different look, nothing appeared the same as he remembered
 it. All had changed, becoming more colorful, more exciting, more
 thrilling than ever before. For this day he would ride with the
 hunt!
  
 He swiveled in his saddle and threw a conspiratorial glance back at
 Toli, who rode behind him. Toli was talking to Durwin, but saw the
 look and answered it with a wink.
  
 Gerin turned his eyes to the sights around him. Jugglers tossed knives
 and hoops high into the air and caught them deftly; a man with a
 trained bear on a chain made it stand on its head, acrobats tumbled and
 threw one another spinning into the air; some boys ' had made a pair of
 stilts from the limbs of trees and were trying to master the an of
 walking on them; vendors cried over the shouts and laughter, hawking
 their trinkets: fancy ribbons, jewelry, and tiny lacquered boxes.
  
 The world was alive with sound and color. Here and there ' music
 swelled as minstrels gathered small audiences to hear their newest
 songs; horses cantered and neighed, tossing their heads and setting
 their bells ringing; children ran laughing, their bare feet skipping
 over the grass.
  
 The parade entered the field itself, and Gerin turned his eyes 10 the
 competition. Ranged around the long rectangle of the field were tents
 and small pavilions, each with a standard before the entrance bearing
 the banner of the lord or knight within. Some of the riders were
 outside their tents, seeing to the last-minute details of tack or
 weapons. Hunting hounds lay on the grass waiting for the chase to
 begin, or strained at their leashes, yapping eagerly at one another as
 they sensed the moment of their release drawing near.
  
 Gerin gazed among the pavilions, reading the devices and look Tin Sword
 and the Flame ing for those that he knew. There was the green oak on a
 barred field of azure and gold that was Sir Grenfell. The boar and
 spear on scarlet belonged to Lord Bossit; and the silver lance and
 shield on checkered black and white was the blazon of Sir Hedric
 ofBellavee. There were also Benniofs silver and blue double eagle,
 Rudd's red ox on sable, and Fineness gauntlet clutching white
 thunderbolts.
  
 There were more that he did not know harts and hounds, mailed fists and
 morions, poniards and preying birds but he did not see the two he hoped
 most to see: the black hawk on crimson, and the gray gauntlet clutching
 crossed mace and Hail.
  
 "Where is Theido, father? And Ronsard? I do not sec them," the Prince
 said, craning his neck around the perimeter of the field.
  
 "They will be here before the hunt is through. Theido sent word that
 he will arrive tomorrow, and Ronsard likewise. They will not miss the
 hunt. Do not worry, your friends will come."
  
 They arrived at the King's pavilion and dismounted. The ascending rows

 of banks were already filled to overflowing, and more people were
 crowding in. In the very front row, however, were chairs set up behind
 abanister for the royal family and their entourage. The Queen took
 her place, and the Princesses beside her, smiling and waving to all who
 greeted her. The King, instantly surrounded by well-wishers, slowly
 made his way to his chair where he remained standing and signaled the
 herald.
  
 A long clear blast of the trumpet summoned the riders, who began filing
 onto the field, arranging themselves in ranks before the King's
 pavilion. When all were ready, the King nodded to a man with a wide
 leather baldric from which dangled a hunting horn.
  
 The man was the Marshal of the Hunt, he led his bay horse to the front

 of the assembled ranks and in a loud voice began reciting the rules of
 conduct. When he was finished, Quentin looked over the crowd and
 shouted, "Do you one and all pledge your oath to abide the laws of the
 King's Hunt?"
  
 "We so pledge!" the riders shouted as one. "Well said!" cried
 Quenlin. "Let the hunt begin!" A great hurrah went up from the
 hunters, and all the spectators gathered around the field. The marshal
 raised the horn to his Ups,
  
 / 7S1 I
  
 but before he could sound the note someone called out, "We would have
 our King lead us!"
  
 "The King!" someone else shouted. "Yes! The King!" the rest pined
 in. "We want King Quentin. The King must lead the hunt!"
  
 Quentin smiled and glanced at his Queen. "Oh, you must go, Father!
 You must!" cried Princess Brianna and Princess Elena.
  
 "Yes," agreed Bria. "Lead them, my lord."
  
 "Very well," said Quentin. "I will ride!" He made to leave the
 pavilion and mount Blazer. Another hurrah went up from the throng.
  
 "The King will ride!" they shouted. Actually Quentin rode every year,
 but it was always custom that the contestents ask him to ride and offer
 him the lead. Usually he rode only for a short while and then returned
 to officiate over the other games.
  
 "Are you coming, Durwin?" Quentin asked as he descended from the
 pavilion.
  
 "I am getting too old for breaking my neck on horseback. Leave it to
 the younger men. I shall wait here for your return."
  
 "Durwin!" the crowd called. "Let Durwin ride with us! Durwin!
 Durwin!" The call became a chant.
  
 J "You see, they want you, Durwin. You would disappoint them?"
  
 "Very well, I will ride. Lead on." He followed Quentin down to the
 field.
  
 As they were mounted and making ready to gallop off, Quentin looked to
 his side and saw his son beaming at him, his young face shining with
 anticipation. "What is this?"
  
 "I am riding, too. Father. That is your surprise!"
  
 Before Quentin could speak, Toll, sitting next to the Prince, said, "We
 have been practicing for weeks, my lord. Your son has become a fine
 horseman."
  
 "Is it true?" He stared at his son.
  
 The boy burst out laughing. "If you could see the bruises -I have
 endured, you would know the truth of it!"
  
 Quentin did not know what to say. He glanced to Bria, who was
 attending the scene from her seat with a worried look on her face.
 Quentin scratched his Jaw and seemed about to overrule the enter
  
 I 753 I
  
 prise. He looked to TolL "Do you think it wise?" Prince Gcrin bit his
 lip.
  
  
 "Sire, I would not allow it if I thought he would be in danger. He can
 handle himself and his mount, never fear. And I will ride with him
 just to make sure. I will not allow him away from me for an
 instant."
  
 Quentin nodded, his eyes on the boy. The intense hope the youngster,
 carried within him burned out of his eyes like a flame. How could he be
 denied?
  
 "As you will," said Quentin, breaking into a grin when he saw bow much
 his approval meant to the lad. "You shall ride. And I hope you find
 the biggest trophy!"
  
 "For you. Father. I want to find one for you!"
  
 "Toll, watch after him. And you, young sir, do as Toll tells you'
  
 They made their way among the other riders to the end of the field die
 King in the lead with Durwin on one side and Prince Gerin and Toli on
 the other. When they were in position, the King raised his hand and
 the Marshal of the Hunt blew his horn. "To the bunt!" they cried, and
 all at once the horses leapt away, thundering off across the plain
 toward Pelgrin Forest.
  
 The thump of the horses' hooves on the plain pounded out a drumbeat,
 and the people cheered as the hunters flew away into the forest. Once
 they reached the foremost fringes of the wood, Quentin hung back and
 let the others go ahead. Those after game dashed ahead first, lances
 at the ready, searching out trails among the dark branches. Hoi behind
 them came the trophy seekers who spread out to ride alone to secret
 places where they hoped a prize would be found.
  
 "What are you waiting for?" shouted Quentin to his son, who also
 hesitated at the edge of the wood. "Away! Fly!"
  
 The youngster snapped the reins, and Tarky dashed away, Toli was right
 behind him. "He is growing up. Sire," said Durwin at Quentin's
 shoulder.
  
 "Too fast, I sometimes think." He smiled after his son. "Look at him
 go!"
  
 "He reminds me of another young man I met could it be that long ago?
 He also had a brown mare, as I remember."
  
 "But he did not ride that well as I remember." "So it is! But he had
 the will to try, and a stout heart in his young frame."
  
 "Stubborn, you mean," laughed Quentin. "How we have changed, old
 friend."
  
 "Yes, changed a little. But still very much the same." The hermit
 snapped his reins. "Come along. Let us see how the young master
 fares. Keep up if you can!" With that he darted off.
  
 "Is that any way to speak to your King, you grizzled old hermit!"
 Quentin shouted after him. He spurred Plazer and sped into the cool
 green wood.
  
 EIGHT
  
 \ "IT is such a lovely day, my Lady. Do you not wish to join the
 others at the festival?" Chloe came quietly up behind Esme as she
 gazed unseeing out upon the plain, ablossom with scores of colored
 tents. "See, the hunt has already begun."
  
 They watched the line of horses and riders galloping in a long sinuous
 wave over the Plain of Askelon. After a moment Esme replied absently,
 "You may go, Chloe, if you like. I think I wilt remain .. ."
  
 "Oh, do come, my Lady. You would enjoy it. You would, I know."

  
 "Ah," Esme sighed, "to please you. Very well, I will go."
  
 As the day was gentle, they decided to walk, making their way through
 empty streets to the festival field. Chloe kept up a running banter
 all the way, talking of this or that small thing she had noticed in the
 Dragon King's household, comparing it \o what she knew of other royal
 houses.
  
 Esme listened with half an ear, letting her maid chirp on like a
 sparrow, happy not to have to think at all, but jusc listen. Her dark
 mood of the night before had returned with the morning. And though she
 tried to master it, she found it engulfed her more securely than she
 guessed. For try as she might, she could not banish it from her.
  
 So, with no hope of ridding herself of it, and lacking the immediate
 strength to fight it, she merely gave herself over to the despair she
 felt and let it tug her along where it would.
  
 What am I to do? she thought. What am I to do?
  
 She had, with the death other husband, inherited vast holdings of
 lands. Several small villages were under her protection, as well as a
 castle and a summer estate, each with a full complement of stewards,
 overseers, and servants. Her treasury was one of the largest in
 Elsendor- But all this she would have given up gladly, if only it would
 have offered her a glimmer of hope for happiness.
  
 "Do not frown so, my Lady," said Chloe.
  
 "What?" Esme pulled herself out other gloomy thoughts.
  
 "Promise me you will try to enjoy the occasion."
  
 Esme smiled. "I shall try. I know it is not seemly tor a lady to
 scowl like a haggard." She sighed again. "Oh, Chloe, what am I going
 to do?"
  
 Once at the festival site, they made their way among the
 yellow and-white striped pavilions, now being jostled by the roaming
 populace. They walked toward the King's pavilion, pausing to watch
 acrobats and jugglers, or to sample the treats of the vendors.
  
 "Lady Esmel Lady Esme!" she heard a voice call out, and turned to see
 the two little Princesses running to her. "We are so glad you came'
 Oh!"* said Brianna breathlessly, "there is much to see!"
  
 "So much to see!" said Elena. "Come with us!"
  
 "Do you want to watch us in a game?" asked Brianna.
  
 "Oh, please," cried Elena, "you must!"
  
 "I would love to," said Esme.
  
 The girls were off again, quick as grasshoppers, darting toward a large
 ring of people gathered around a game of skittles.
  
 "I am glad you changed your mind, Esme." Bria fell into step beside
 her.
  
 Esme dropped her eyes to her feet. "It was Chloe's idea ...**
  
 / 755 /
  
 she said slowly. Bria heard the undertone of despair in her voice. "I
 must have gabbled like a fishwife last night."
  
 "What is a little gabbling between friends? I welcome your confidence.
  If you care to talk, I will listen."
  
 Esme did not speak again for a moment- The two women walked together in
 silence. "It is strange, is it not?" she said finally.
  
 "What is?"
  
 "Life." Esme glanced at her friend and then turned away again quickly.
 "Only yesterday we had so much before us so many bright hopes for the
 future, so many dreams, so much joy. Those were good days "
  
 "And will be again."
  
 "For others perhaps, but not for me. It seems my fate was cast from
 the beginning. I was never "
  
 "All were born for happiness, Esme. But you have seen much of pain and
 trouble, and it will take time to heal those inner wounds. You must
 not expect them to disappear in an evening."
  
 "I thought by coming here it would be different. But I have brought my
 trouble with me."
  
 "Then we shall do whatever can be done to free you and you must also
 help." I "I will try, Bria. I will try for your sake
  
 "Not for me, dear friend. For-yourself."
  
 The hunt moved through the thick-grown trails of Felgrin Forest, and
 the wood rang with the voices of the hunters and the sounding of horns
 whenever beast was caught or trophy won. In a clearing, through which
 coursed a shining stream, Quentin and Durwin stopped to allow their
 horses to drink.
  
 "Tired so soon?" asked Durwin- Other riders entered the meadows, also
 paused at the water, and then went on.
  
 "I should return to the festival. My presence there will be required
 to judge the games." He listened to the crash of horses and riders
 through the underbrush, and felt the warm sun on his face. "It is a
 good hunt, eh?"
  
 "So it is! I do not remember one better.  But you go on, I will remain
 a little. I would like to see the young Prince ride. It is a joy to
 watch him. I shall try to find them
  
 Quentin turned Blazer and started bade across the meadow; he paved to
 Durwin and galloped away.
  
 Diirwin struck off for the far side of the clearing where a trail
 ;ntered the wood. He knew the forest well, and bad a hunch where ie
 might find Toli and Gcrin, for be had seen them pushing a outherly
 course just before he and the King had entered the nea dow
  
 How long has it been since I have lived in the forest? he rendered.
 Ah, too long! I have forgotten how peaceful it is, and low fragrant
 and beautiful. Perhaps I should leave the castle and ;oroe back to my
 old home. Perhaps. But I am content to be where he King wants me.
 Yes, I am content.
  
 These and other thoughts occupied his mind as he rode along he
 leaf-laden byways of the forest. The green shadows were cooh rel low
 sunlight struck through open patches in the leafy canopy, lapp ling the
 path with dancing light. Durwin savored the solitude >f the wood and
 felt his hean soar like a hawk on an upward draft.
  
 Just then the air shivered with a startled cry a sudden, sharp ?elp.
 It hung for a moment and then was cut off. The forest leadened the
 sound, muffling it so that Durwia could not discern he source. But it
 seemed to come from somewhere very close at land.
  
 He spurred his steed forward, heedless of the branches reaching nit for
 him. There was another shout, closer this time.
  
 Durwin threw the reins to the side, and the horse careened :hrough the
 underbrush. Nettles tore at his legs. He ducked ^ranches and urged
 the horse to greater speed- He saw a movement :hrough the trees just
 ahead. He caught a fleeting glimpse of a horse earing, and dark shapes
 like shadows darting through the wood.
  
 The next instant he was through the trees and pounding into a Kider
 place in the trail. There before him he saw Toli and Prince 3erin on
 horseback, with three men in dark clothing around them. The men had
 short swords and were circling the riders, trying to get at them. Only
 Riv*s flashing hooves kept these assailants at bay.
  
 Without thinking, Durwin loosed a shout and dashed forward. The men
 heard the whoop and turned to see a new threat bearing iown on them.
 The circle broke as one of the foe turned to meet the hermit.
  
 / 757 /
  
 Before the man could raise his sword, Toli whirled Riv and the
 warhorse's shoulder knocked him to the ground. He yelled as he went
 down; his two companions bolted and ran melding back into the
 forest.
  
 The man on the ground looked up, fear twisting his bcg rimed features.
 He was bleeding from a cut Up. He spat once and then hinged between
 the horses, gaming his feet as he made for the trail edge. He dove
 into the brake and was gone.
  
 "Who were they?" asked Durwin. He felt his heart racing in hu
 chest.
  
 "I do not know," answered Toli. "We merely stopped here to choose a
 direction they were on us in an instant'
  
 "Are you sound, young master?" the hermit asked.
  
 Prince Gerin nodded stowly; his eyes showed white all around.
  
 "What do you think they wanted?"
  
 Toli squinted his eyes in the direction of the fleeing assailants.
 "That I mean to find out." He glanced from the Prince to Durwia
 quickly. "Stay with Durwin, young sir. He will look after you. I
 will be but a moment."
  
 The Prince seemed about to protest but shut his mouth and obeyed.
  
 "Be! careful, TolL You have no weapons."
  
 "Return to the field at once," ordered Toll "I will meet you there
 directly." With that he urged Riv forward into the undergrowth after
 the mysterious men.
  
 NINE
  
 "SOME WICKEDNESS is afoot," said Durwin quietly. *! feel it. There
 is evil close about."
  
 Prince Gerin peered at the hermit closely. The boy set his jaw and
 stared ahead grimly. The act reminded Durwin of another who tiad faced
 trouble with the same silent resolve. How very like his father the
 young Prince was.
  
 They were riding back along the trail the way Toll and the Prince had
 come when Durwin put out a hand and they stopped. "Listen!" he hissed.
 Both cocked their heads to one side. They heard a rustle in the
 bushes behind them along the path.
  
 "Perhaps Toli is returning," offered the Prince.
  
 Durwin felt the darkness around him increase. He could almost see it
 as a presence, feel its desperate strength. It occurred to him [hat he
 had encountered such a malignant force before, and in exactly the same
 way a long time ago.
  
 "We must run for it!" he whispered harshly. Gerin acted quickly and
 without question. With a snap of the reins the two horses leapt away.
 They charged along the winding forest path toward the safety of the
 open plain. They had not run far before they met two men in the path
 ahead, wearing the same dark clothing as the others they had
 encountered. The men waved swords in front of the horses and shouied
 fiercely. The horses stopped and turned. Durwin pulled his mount
 around and Gcrin did the same, but as they made to retreat, two more
 ruffians stepped out onto the path behind them.
  
 "There!" cried Durwin, pointing into the brush. He hesitated and
 allowed the Prince to flash past and then darted after him.
  
 But the pony became entangled in the undergrowth and went down. Prince
 Gerin yelped as he was pitched over his mount's head to the ground
 where he landed with a grunt.
  
 "Hurry!" shouted Durwin. "Get back in the saddle! Hurry!"
  
 The boy leaped back to his feet and grabbed at the dangling reins as
 the horse struggled to its knees. He was back in the saddle even
 before the animal had regained its legs. "Ride!" shouted Durwin.
 "Ride!"
  
 The hermit glanced down and saw hands reaching out for him. He slashed
 down with the reins and heard someone curse. He spurred his mount
 after the fleeing Prince, but felt his arm caught and held. The horse
 jerked away and Durwin was hauled from the saddle, struggling as he
 fell.
  
 He landed on his back at the edge of the trail. There was a flash
  
 / 759 /
  
 in the shadow, and he heard the air sing above his bead. He squirmed
 and rolled to his knees and felt a sharp sting in his side. As he
 half-turned and threw himself backwards toward the trail, he heard the
 rush of air through clenched teeth and saw the glancing light arc
 toward him. The blow caught him low in the back; his knees buckled,
 and he toppled onto the trail.
  
 Durwin put his hand to his side and felt the warm wetness seeping
 through his clothes. When he brought his hand away, he saw it dripping
 red in the dimness of the forest. The wound burned now;
  
 flames spread through him from the throbbing pain just below the ribs.
 He tried to raise himself, but fell back legs numb and unfeeling.
  
 There was a quick movement beside him, a shout in the forest a little
 way off, and the thrashing of branches. He heard another shout further
 away and then silence.
  
 Time gathered itself into aball, slowed, and hovered without moving.
 Durwin's mind raced. He had been struck down by an unseen sword.
 Instead of finishing him, the attackers had gone after Prince Gerin.
 He must alert Toli, but how? He tried to call out, but the effort
 brought a flash of white-hot pain to his side. He coughed and spat.
 His spittle was flecked with blood.
  
 The wound is bad, he told himself, but no matter. He lay back,
 panting. Toli must be summoned. The Holy Hermit of Pelgrin Forest
 closed his eyes and began to pray.
  
 "God Most High, hear your servant in his time of need. Guide Toli here
 to save us. Bring him quickly before it is too laic. Keep the Prince
 safe, I pray. Keep him safe .. ."
  
 Dark mist rolled over him, engulfing him, and slowly his lips stopped
 moving. He lay back in the soft, mossy turf of tt*" forest pathway, an
 ugly red stain spreading slowly beneath him.
  
 Quentm had reached the edge of Pelgrin and started back across the
 plain when he hesitated. Was that a cry he heard? He stopped
 rock-still.
  
 The air was calm and warm; light breezes wafted idly, lifting the
 leaves and blades of grass around him. Nearby a skylark warbled a song
 to the sun.
  
 But to Quentin it was as if the heavens had dimmed for an instant, as
 if a cloud had passed before the sun, blotting out its face for a brief
 moment. Then all was as before, except the King's senses pricked and
 tingled to an unknown danger.
  
 At once he turned Blazer back into the forest, sending his thoughts
 ahead to sift the wind for direction. He struck along a southerly
 path, sensing that the cry he imagined had come from that direction.
 The boles of trees, bands of light and shadow, blurred as Quentin flew
 along this dim corridor of Pelgrin. His heart thumped in his chest and
 he urged Blazer onward ever faster, choosing his course on instinct
 alone.
  
 Upon reaching a small clearing, he halted. A bundle lay ahead in the
 trail. Was that a body?
  
 Quentin slid from the saddle and hurried forward. He, knelt down and
 rolled the body into his arms.
  
 "Durwin!"
  
 The hermit's face had gone gray as ashes. His eyelids flickered, and
 he focused cloudy eyes on his friend. "Ah, Quentin... ."
  
 "What has happened? Who has done this to you?"
  
 "The Prince , .. your son. They have taken him.. ..**
  
 "Who? Here, let me help you-"
  
 "No, no. Leave me. Find your son. They went through there." He
 nodded his head weakly.
  
 "How many?"
  
 "Three or four. I did not see them clearly. Maybe more. Toll ah!"
 Pain twisted his features; his limbs convulsed and then relaxed.
  
 "Easy," soothed Quentin. "We will find them. Rest now." He Struggled
 to remain calm.
  
 "Yes, I will rest." The hermit's voice was thin, but his eyes looked
 deeply into Quentin's. "We have traveled far together, eh?" He coughed
 and his eyes squeezed shut.
  
 "Yes, and we have many roads yet to ride." Quentin held him more
 tightly.
  
 "You will ride them alone, I think- But I am content I am not afraid to
 die."
  
 "You are not dying!" Quentin shouted desperately. Tears rose in his
 throat. "You will survive. Help is coming."
  
 / 761 I
  
 "I fear it will come too late." He gazed at Quentin again. "Do not
 blame Toll. It is not his fault."
  
 "I do not understand," Quentin said.
  
 "Be strong, Quentin. Remember, you are the King. You must lead your
 kingdom. This will be your sorest test, your darkest day."
  
 "No!" Quentin could see his friend was slipping away. "You will never
 die!"
  
 "So it is! The spirit never dies ... never. We will meet again fair
 friend. I will wait for you. No pain, no fear.. .."
  
 "Do not leave roe!" cried Quentin.
  
 A slight tremor passed through the hermit's body, and then he lay
 still. His breath whispered away in a sigh. Durwin was dead.
  
 TEN
  
 \ "FOOLS' IMBECILES!" Nimrood raged. "What have you done?" He
 whirled around the circle, thrusting a crooked finger into the grim
 faces before him. "You will pay for this with your lives'"
  
 "We only did as you told us," said the leader of the temple guards.
 "How were we to know he would leave the Prince? They were together."
  
 "Silence! Let me think!" He stopped to glare down at Prince Germ, who
 stared back defiantly. "I send you out to strike down a man and you

 bring me a boy."
  
 "He's the Prince, I say!" maintained the man.
  
 "Is this true?" asked Nimrood. His eyes bored into the lad. "What is
 your name?"
  
 "Gerin," he replied steadily. "Who are you?"
  
 "Impudent cub!" The old man reached out and cuffed the boy, leaving a
 red welt on his cheek.
  
 "My father will deal with you," said the Prince. "Let me go."
  
 No," said Nimrood slowly as an idea took shape in his mind. "Here is
 an opportunity I can turn to advantage." He smiled cannily. "Oh, yes

 indeed." He chuckled to himself and then snapped, "Bring him!"
  
 They started off on foot, threading deeper into the forest. Two big
 men shoved the Prince forward. When he fell on hands and knees, they
 hauled him up by his collar and shoved him forward again. Another
 guard seized Tarky*s reins and led the animal away.
  
 "You two!" Nimrood said, pointing to the two behind. "Stay well to
 the rear of us. If anyone comes after, put them off the trail.
  
 Do you hear?"
  
 The two men looked worriedly at one another, but nodded and dropped
 behind. Soon Nimrood, the Prince, and the others were lost in the
 dense growth of forest. The two guards watched their comrades
 disappear. One muttered to the other, "I do not like this foul
 business- Not a whit, by Ariel! We are guards of the temple, but he
 has made us highwaymen and kidnappers!"
  
 "I did not hear your voice oppose him," the other replied nastily. "We
 are in it now and have no choice but to see it through."
  
 "Aye, but where is it going to lead in the end? That is what I want to
 know. There is death here mark my words. Death. This will be the
 undoing of the temple."
  
 "Silence! There is enough to worry about as it is. If we are to get
 out of this with our skins, we'll need to keep sharp and stop mewling
 like sick cats."
  
 "He has taken the Prince! By Ariel "
  
 "Shut up! We are in this as deep as he. No sense in yammering on
 about it. Come on, let's be about our business."
  
 The two walked off in the direction the others had gone, listening
 nervously to the forest sounds, hoping against hope that no one would
 come after them.
  
 Toli entered the trail and proceeded to the clearing.  Before he even
 saw the huddled forms upon the ground, he knew something was very
 wrong. His heart Jerked within him, quickening to the terrible
 apprehension that overpowered him.
  
 I 763 f
  
 He threw himself down from his horse and ran toward the place where
 Quentin held the body of Durwin in his arms.
  
 "My lord! Oh!" He stopped short and knelt, knowing now what had
 happened.
  
 Quentin raised his head slowly. His face glistened with tears. "Durwin
 is dead." he said softly. "Dead. Toll, I...." His voice trailed off
 and he clutched the body to him again, his shoulders shaking with the
 sobs that wracked him.
  
 Toli felt as if his heart had been cut in two. He sat back on his
 heels and raised his face to the sky, showing pale blue overhead
 through the trees. In a moment the quiet green glade hummed with a
 gentle sound as Toll raised the ancient Jher song for the dead.
  
 Whinoek bred faro lleani, Fallei sensi nessina wa. **
  
 The words were simple, and Quentin understood them. Toli sang, "Father
 of Life, receive our brother. Grant him peace in your great home."
  
 To the Jher people, who had no permanent home, roaming the I northern
 forests as they did, Whinoek's great home to them meant eternal joy and
 safety and comfort and peace, which to the gentle Jher was the highest
 fulfillment.
  
 After a time the song stopped, fading softly away on the air. Quentin
 lowered the body of the hermit carefully to the ground and, with Toli,
 arranged the limbs. He brushed a strand of hair away from the broad
 face of the man he had loved, and kissed the high forehead gently.
 Then he rose slowly.
  
 "They will curse the day of their birth," he murmured. "I am going
 after them."
  
 "No, let me. I-"
  
 "I am going. Ride to the castle- Bring a bier for him, and take him
 back. I will Join you there when I have found my son."

  
 "But " objected Toll- He stood and approached the King.
  
 "That is all," Quentin cut him off coldly, "You will do as I say. When
 you have finished, bring a company of knights and come after me if I
 have not yet returned."
  
 The Sword and i fu Flame

  
 "What are you going to do. Sire?" Toli was frightened by the look in
 his master's eye.
  
 **I am going to bring back the Prince." With that, he turned away and
 strode to where Blazer waited patiently. Snatching up the reins, he
 swung himself into the saddle, then glanced back once more at the body
 of the hermit on the ground. "Good-bye, old friend," he said simply,
 raising a hand slowly in final salute. Then he was gone.
  
 "What can be taking them so long?" wondered Bria aloud. "They should

 have returned long ago."
  
 Esme, sitting next to the Queen in the royal pavilion, craned her neck
 and gazed toward the forest. "I do not see anyone coming. But you know
 men and their hunting. I would not wonder but that they became caught
 up in the chase and have forgotten everything else."
  
 "You arc right. I am certain that is what has happened." She spoke
 the words, but in her heart she was far from convinced. Bria turned
 her eyes once more to the costumed mummers performing before her. The
 bright disguises glittered in the sun, and the two young Princesses
 giggled at the pantomime, clapping their hands with glee. Bria tried
 to maintain a show of interest in the performance, but once and again
 her eyes stole back across the plain toward the forest, watching for
 the return ofQuentin, Durwin, and the others. But she saw no sign of
 anyone, so at last forced herself to concentrate on the play.
  
 "Look!" Esme whispered urgently. "A rider!"
  
 The Queen raised her eyes and looked where Esme was pointing. She
 could just make out the form of one rider approaching from across the
 plain.
  
 "Oh! Only one!" An arrow of dread pierced her heart. "Something has
 happened!"
  
 "We cannot be certain," Esme said lightly. "Let us wait until we have
 heard what he has to say. Perhaps it is only a messenger on his way to
 tell us the King will be late which we already know." She laughed, but
 there was no happiness in her voice.
  
 "Who is it? Can you see?" Bria stood.
  
 I 765 I
  
 "No, not yet'
  
 They waited. Tension drew taut as a bowstring.
  
 Queen Bria crumpled the front other gown in her hands as the rider drew
 closer.
  
 "It is Toli!" cried Esme.
  
 "Yes, I see him now!" Bria stepped down from her chair. "Come. I
 cannot abide here another moment. Stay here with Chloe," she told her
 daughters. "I will return in a moment."
  
 "I will look after them, my Lady," answered Chloe.
  
 The two women dashed onto the field, scattering the actors, who parted
 to let them pass and then continued once more with their performance.
  
 They met Toli at the edge of the festivities. "What is it?" asked the
 Queen, her intuition already answering the worst.
  
 Toli turned grave eyes on her. He did not look at Esme. Bria felt a
 thin blade of terror slide under her ribs. "The King " she whispered.
 "Nol the King."
  
 Toli took the Queen's hand. "My Lady, the King is well," he said
 softly, searching her eyes, hoping to find further words there.
  
 "Yes, continue," said Bria. She stared steadily back.
  
 "Durwin is dead."
  
 "How?" Bria gasped.
  
 "They were set upon by kidnappers in the forest- He died protecting the
 Prince."
  
 "And the Prince? He is safe?" said Esme.
  
 "Gone. The Prince has been taken "
  
 "No!" murmured Bria. The sound of the clattering, noisy din around
 them faded, and she had the sensation of the world blurring before her
 as she staggered beneath the force of a killing blow.
  
 "Where is the King?" asked Esme, fighting to keep her voice under
 control.
  
 "He was with Durwin when I found him. He has gone after the Prince,"
 He glanced briefly at Esme, as if noticing her for the first time. "I
 am to fetch a bier and bring Durwin to the castle, then return with a
 complement of knights to follow the King."
  
 "We will see to the bier. You must go at once and assemble the knights
 as the King has ordered. Do not delay."
  
 Toli hesitated. Those had not been the King's instructions. Bria came
 to herself. "Yes, I agree. You must not waste a moment. Go now."

 Bria placed a hand on his arm. "Please hurry." Toli still hesitated.
 "I should have been there," he said. "I
  
 should have never left them alone."
  
 "No," said Esmc. "There is no time. What is done is done."
  
 "Go. He will need you with him," Bria added.
  
 "Very well. You will find Durwin in a glade along the southern trail.
 I will send someone to lead you." Toli bowed his head and then he was
 back in the saddle, racing once more for the forest where he would find
 the knights he sought, for most were taking part in the hunt.
  
 Bria turned to her friend. She tried to speak, but no words would
 come.
  
 Esmc put an arm around her shoulders. "Come. There is much to do. We
 have work to occupy us while we wait. And we must pray the wait is not
 long."
  
 "Yes, we must pray for Quentin and Gerin. They will need our prayers
 this day."
  
 ELEVEN
  
 Tou REACHED Pelgrin and struck along the foremost trail leading into
 the heart of the forest. The hunt had moved deeply into the wood and
 scattered widely. He would have to keep a sharp eye for signs along
 the trail, and listen for any sounds of nearby hunters. He came to a
 place where a small stream trickled among the great trunks of ancient
 oaks. Along the low banks he saw the imprints of horses' hooves where
 several had stopped to drink before pressing on. Without a second
 thought he leaped across the stream and into the forest after them.
  
 / 767 /
  
 Soon he was rewarded with the blast from a horn. The long, ringing note
 was sounded from far-off, but the tone lingered in the air and gave
 Toli all the direction he needed. Alert to the minute signs of the
 hunters' passing, Toli followed the party unerringly through the thick,
 woodsy tangle. Riv charged through the underbrush, head down and ears
 laid back. The horse, so responsive to his master's subtlest commands,
 passed like a glimmering shade between trees and outstretched
 branches.
  
 And then, a little way ahead, Toli heard voices. He slapped Riv on the
 rump once more and they jumped a fallen log, landing square in the
 center of a well-used path.
  
 "Ho there!" one of the men cried when he saw Toli. "Toli! Look here'"
 The others with him looked up from their work. They were a party of
 four Lords Galen and Bossit, Sir Hedric and Sir Dareth and they were
 gutting a boar they had just killed. Toli thanked the Most High that
 these able and brave men were the first be met in his search for
 assistance.
  
 "Lord Galen good sirs..." Toli greeted them. He reined Riv to a halt,
 and the horse snorted loudly. The others saw the steed's
 white-lathered flanks and shoulders and knew Toli had come on an errand
 of some urgency. "My lord, what is it?" asked Lord Bossit. A look of
 concern clouded his features.
  
 "The King's minister has been struck down, and the Prince kidnapped,"
 said Toli, his breath coming hard from his ride. "By the gods!"
 exploded Sir Hedric, jumping to his feet. "How?" "When?"
  
 Toll took a deep breath. "We were set upon by assassins in the wood
 not far from here only a short while ago. I went after them, but they
 doubled back and attacked the Prince. Durwin fell protecting him."
  
 "The hermit dead? The heir gone?" They looked grimly at one
 another.
  
 Toli continued, "Mount up at once and come with me. We ride to meet
 the King, who is pursuing them."
  
 "By Zoar, these rogues will pay for this outrage vowed Lord Galen.
 "We are at your command, sir!"
  
 With that the knights abandoned their kill, mounted their horses, and
 fell into line behind Toli, who led them toward the place where he had
 encountered the attackers. They made their way | as quickly as they
 could and at last reached the glade.
  
 It was quiet and cool in the shaded clearing. A number of tiny yellow
 butterflies flitted among the leaves, darting in and out of the falling
 beams of light that slanted in through the trees. A hermit thrush sang
 in the high treetops a clear, sparkling liquid sound, pure and sweet.
  
 The glade seemed enchanted, and no one dared break the spell of the
 place.
  
 Durwin still lay where they had left him, so still and peaceful he
 might have merely dozed off for a nap. No one spoke at first, overcome
 with the strangeness of the scene before them.
  
 The hermit lay dead, and yet seemed in such perfect peace that those
 who looked upon him could but stare in awe. His presence was strong in
 the place; each one felt it as if he had touched them.
  
 "Someone should stay with him," said Lord Bossit. "I will."
  
 "No," replied Toli quietly. "He is safe here in the forest. Nothing
 can harm him now. Go back to the castle and lead the others here. The
 Queen is bringing a bier. See that all is attended to."
  
 "As you say, my lord." He left at once.
  
 "The King rode to the south," said Toli. He turned Riv and took up the
 trail. The other knights followed without a word, -.
  
 Quentin combed a wide swath through the forest, working first this way
 for half a league or more, and then cutting back the other way. But
 for all his care and vigilance, he failed to uncover any sign of the
 fleeing assassins.
  
 Still he pushed on, bending ever southward, with a feeling that this
 was the direction the abductors had chosen, though he knew they might
 well have taken another. The forest was huge; to cover it all would
 take scores of men and many months of diligent searching. As he rode,
 Quentin fought down the growing sense of futility and desperation that
 swelled within him, building up inside like a vile black broth set to
 the fire.
  
 He paused periodically to listen but detected only the normal, sleepy
 sounds of the wood. He went on.
  
 / 769-/
  
 Then, quite without warning. Blazer stumbled down a short, steep bank
 of hill, and Quentin found himself on the well-used southern road that
 led to Hinsenby and then bent southwest along the coast. He sat still
 in the saddle for a moment, scanning the road both ways. When nothing
 out of the ordinary presented itself to his gaze, he turned once more
 southward and continued on.
  
 After riding a little way be came to a dell where the road dipped to
 meet a stony-banked stream. Here he found his first clue, for in the
 dust of the road at the banks of the stream were a number of
 footprints, and the hoofprmts of a horse.
  
 Whoever made those prints had emerged from the forest at this point,
 having followed the stream until it met the road. Across the stream
 the tracks led off down the way. Blazer splashed across the water, and
 Quentin leaned low in the saddle to examine the marks. It was difficult
 to tell anything for certain from these prints, for there were others
 all along the road.
  
 The hunt! thought Quentin. How dull I am. These and all the rest
 were made by people on their way to the festival. At once his hope, so
 quickly born, died and shrank away. But not entirely. Of all the
 various tracks in the dust only a few were leading southward All the
 others pointed toward the north and Askelon. 1 Seizing this meager
 scrap of evidence, Quentin once again urged the sturdy Blazer onward.
 The steed flew over the wide road, and the King searched along its
 length for any trace of his son's passing.
  
 "ListenI" said one temple guard to the other. "Someone comes."
  
 Both stopped and peered back behind them on the road. They could hear
 the tinkling jingle of tiny bells such as a horse would wear on its
 tack.
  
 "You get off the road. If they stop, draw sword and be ready," said
 the first.
  
 "But " protested the other. His Hands trembled as they touched the
 weapon concealed beneath his cloak at his side.
  
 "Quickly! I will stay here and try to put them astray."
  
 "Why were we chosen for this cursed task grumbled the other.
  
 "Do as I say! Hurry! They are almost upon us!"
  
 The frightened guard threw a dark look at his comrade, and then
 disappeared into the underbrush at the side of the road. In a moment
 the first could see horse and rider approaching rapidly.
  
 "You there!" shouted Quentin when he came. The nervous accomplice
 turned and stood blinking at him, pretending to be unsure u to whether
 il was he who had been addressed. Then his eye caught sight of the
 wrought gold clasp that secured the rider's cloak a terrible, twisting
 dragon, the royal blazon.
  
 A shiver ran through the man as Quentin was recognized, color drained
 from his face.
  
 "So you know your King when you see him, do you
  
 The man licked his lips and said, "I am at your service. Sire." His
 eyes shifted unsteadily.
  
 "How long have you been on this road?" demanded Quentin.
  
 "Well, we that is, I... not long ... I mean '*
  
 "Where are you bound?"
  
 "To Hinsenby. Sire."
  
 "Are you alone?" Quentin watched the man struggle under his
 questions.
  
 "Yes, lord." The man's eyes shifted again.
  
 "Have you seen anyone on the way?"
  
 The man thought for a moment and then said, "Yes, I did. Only a short
 while ago it was. Back there back by the stream. A group of
 travelers. Merchants, I think."
  
 "How many?"
  
 "Five, six maybe. Not more. They were bound for Askelon, I would
 warrant."
  
 Quentin turned in the saddle and looked behind him. No, the prints had
 pointed the other way. Then he saw the tracks leading away from the
 road. He turned back to the man Just in time to see him glance to the
 side and then quickly back.
  
 "Merchants, you said?"
  
 "Sire, I believe they were."
  
 "And arc you a merchant, too?" asked the King suspiciously.
  
 "I am .. ." the man hesitated "a pilgrim. Sire."
  
 "They were going to Askelon, you say? Was there a boy with them, a boy
 on horseback?"
  
 / 771 I
  
 The supposed pilgrim opened his mouth, but the words stuck on his
 tongue.
  
 "Answer quickly, friend! I find your manner most peculiar."
  
 The traveler flushed. "No, there was no boy with them. I saw none, at
 least."
  
 "Liar!" shouted Quentin, scowling furiously. "In truth I saw the
 hoofprmts at the water, and they continue this way."
  
 The temple guard stared at the King sullenly and said nothing.
  
 "It is no small thing to lie to your King," continued Quentin in a
 voice strained but in control. "I will give you one more chance. Where
 did they go?"
  
 "I know not. Sire. Please ... it is not "
  
 "Are you in league with them?" shouted Quentin. "Answer me!"
  
 Just then there was a rustle in the bushes at the side of the road.
 Quentin whirled around as another man, dressed like the first in dark
 tunic and long cloak despite the heat of the day, leaped from his
 hiding place, sword in hand. The second man lunged clumsily forward,
 eyes showing terror. "Sirike!" cried this attacker. Quentin turned
 to sec a blade appear in the first pilgrim's hand as well.
  
 Zhaligkeer sang as it slid from the sheath, the long blade shone forth
 with cool brilliance from its fierce inner fire. Quentin swung the
 mighty sword overhead. "You! You killed Durwin!" he cried.
  
 The two men saw the terrible sword and fell back with a startled cry.
  
 "Murderers!" shouted Quentin. "Cowards!"
  
 "Mercy!" cried the first assailant. "Mercy ... I beg you!"
  
 Rage like molten metal seared through Quentin's mind; its wild fury
 rushed through him with blinding force. "I will show you mercy," he
 cried, "the mercy you showed Durwin!"
  
 Before the man could turn and flee, the Shining One whispered in the
 air and flashed in a deadly downward arc. The would-be assassin
 quickly lifted his blade above his head to take the blow, but the sword
 shattered in his hand and the pieces fell to earth. He shrieked and
 fell to his knees, the sound of certain death whistling after him.
  
 "Mercy!" he screamed. "Forgive me!" Bright Zhaligkeer filled his
 horror-stricken eyes with its unearthly light, and he threw his hands
 over his face. The stroke caught him at the base of the neck. cutting
 short his last cry of remorse. The man pitched forward into the road,
 dead when he met the ground.
  
 A thin crimson ribbon trickled along Zhaligkeer's blade. Quentin
 swiveled in the saddle to meet the second villain, who threw down his
 weapon and dove headlong into the brush, disappearing into the

 forest.
  
 The rage which had burned so hot in Quentin's veins left him as
 suddenly as it had flared. The King stared at the misshapen heap in
 the dust, then at the sword in his hand, and his heart froze in his
 chest. Zhaligkeer's fiery blade now appeared as any ordinary metal,
 glimmering darkly in the fading light of late afternoon.
  
 The bright white flame of the Shining One had gone out.
  
 TWELVE
  
 SILENTLY THE women entered the glade little more than a wide place in
 the trail. Esme swung down from her horse, and Bria from hers. Lord
 Bossit halted the small, two-wheeled wagon which carried the bier. The
 wooden wheels creaked to a stop, the only sound heard in the place.
  
 "Oh!" gasped Bria as she beheld the beloved hermit. She walked slowly
 but steadily forward and knelt beside the body. Quietly her tears began
 to fall.
  
 Esme approached and put an arm around the Queen's shoulders.
  
 "Good-bye, fair friend," whispered Bria. Her outstretched fingers
 touched Durwin's folded hands, now cold. She then turned to Lord
 Bossit, who stood reverently nearby. "My mother is waiting she
 said. "Let us take him back."
  
 Bossit nodded to the driver of the wagon, and the two men lifted the
 body onto the waiting bier.
  
 When told of the tragedy Alinea had said nothing, though her
  
 / 773 I
  
 bands trembled. When she spoke, her voice was soft, yet steady; she
 bad already mastered her grief, or had put it aside for the moment.
  
 "Yes," she had said, "you must go at once and bring him back. Take him
 to his apartments. We will prepare the body there. I will await your
 return, and while I wait I shall pray for Prince Gerin, yes, but no
 less for Quentin and for the rest of us. Now go, and may the Most High
 be with you."
  
 Esme had marveled at the dowager's quiet strength, her bearing calmed
 those around her, removing much of the sting of the bitter news. Esme
 recalled another dark day long ago now, the day Eskevar had fallen in
 battle. Days after the King's funeral, Esme had asked the Queen how
 she had been able to remain so strong, comforting all around her, yet
 seeming never to require comfort herself.
  
 "No, I am not strong," Alinea had told her. They were sitting in the
 garden among the primroses. Durwin was there, too. He had been the
 Queen's constant companion during those troubled days. "Though it is
 true I am no stranger to grief, one never becomes a friend to sorrow.
 But Durwin here has shown me the way of hope. This hope I carry within
 me makes the burden lighter, and I find I -am able to help others who
 have not such hope." ( "Then tell me, my Lady, for I would know. How
 can I obtain this hope of yours? Where is it to be found?" Esme had
 asked. She still remembered Alinea's words.
  
 And she remembered Durwin's loo. "The hope you seek is born of belief
 in the Most High, the One True God of all," he had told her. "Seek him
 and you will find him. He is ever reaching out to those who truly
 desire to know him."
  
 "What must I do? Where is his temple?"
  
  
 Durwin laughed. "He is not like other gods. He has no temple, and
 accepts no gifts of silver or gold, or sacrifices of helpless
 creatures."
  
 "No?" This she found most puzzling.
  
 "No," laughed Durwin again. "He wants you. All of you: your heart and
 spirit. He wants your love and worship, everything he will not settle
 for less."
  
 "This is a demanding god you serve, hermit." "Yes, he is as you say
 demanding. But the blessing he bestows
  
 TTu Svwrd and the Flame on all who come near him are beyond all price.
 It is life he gives, and nothing less
  
 Esme wondered at the words at the time. They sounded strange to her,
 and so unlike anything she had ever heard from any priest. She
 remembered how her heart had tugged within her as the hermit spoke.
 Ah, she thought, but I was younger then. So young. Still, I wanted to
 believe what Durwin said was true. Is wanting to believe the same as
 believing? Yet, the time passed, and I thought no more about it, until
 now.. Why now? Is it too late?
  
 Esme came out of her reverie and found Bria's eyes upon her. "You arc
 lost in thought." said Bria. They had reached the edge of the forest
 and were starting across the plain. Askelon shone clearly in the light
 of the westering sun, throwing a great shadow toward them.
  
 "I was thinking of another sad time replied Esme. "OfEskcvar's
 passing."
  
 "Often I have thought of that dark day. When Gerin was born, how I
 wished he was there to see his grandson. It would have made him proud,
 I know. Yes, and no less proud to see his granddaughters." Her
 features twisted in anguish. "Oh, Esme! My son is taken from me!
 What am I going to do?"
  
 "The King is searching for him, and Toli brings help. They will find
 him. They will bring him back safely."
  
 "He is so young. I am afraid they will...." She could not bring
 herself to complete the thought.
  
 "Do not think it! No one would dare harm the Prince. No one. He will
 be safe." Esme forced a smile. "You would not be a true mother if you
 did not worry after your son. But Quentin will find him."
  
 Bria nodded. After a time she said, "I am happy you arc here, Esme. I
 will need a good friend in the days to come."
  
 "I am your friend always."
  
 They rode the rest of the way to the castle in silence, each wrapped in
 her own thoughts, but feeling the warmth of the other's presence.
  
 Quentin blinked his eyes in amazement at the sword in his hand. One
 fell thrust and the fire of the white lanthgnil blade had
  
 / 775 /
  
 been quenched. The awful significance of what had happened struck him
 like a thunderbolt. And he heard once more die wofdt spoken at the
 anointing of the sword:
  
 "Never in malice, never in hate, never in evil shall this blade be
 raised.  But in righteousness and Justice forever shall it shine
  
 That was the promise of the Shining One, and he, in one flash of anger
 and hate, had broken that vow. And in breaking it, the hand of die
 Most High was removed from him. The magnitude of his crime overwhelmed
 him.
  
 "No!" he cried. His own voice rang hollow in his ears, condemning
 him,
  
 The strength seeped out of his arm, and he let go of the sword. The
 blade spun from his hand and fell to the dust of the road, not a pace
 from the body of the wretch he had cut down.
  
 Murderer! the voice of the dead man screamed at him. Murderer! Then
 the forest rang with accusing voices. The King is a murderer! He has
 broken his trust! Murderer! Where is your Most High now? Murderer!
  
 ' Quentin clamped his hands over his ears to stop the voices, but they
 had gotten inside his head. He could not shut them out. In horror he
 gazed at the Shining One, now lying in the dust, and at the crumpled
 body beside it. His stomach churned and heaved with revulsion; a spasm
 rocked him backward in die saddle.
  
 "No!" he screamed once more, a cry of utter despair" No
  
 Then he turned Blazer, sank his spurs deep into the horse's flanks, and
 fled down die road.
  
 "What is dial?" Sir Galen raised his hand coward an object in die
 trail ahead.
  
 Toli looked up quickly. They were stopped at the stream, allowing
 their horses a quick drink before moving on. His eyes narrowed as be
 turned his gaze toward where the knight pointed.
  
 Toll's eagle-sharp vision recognized the shapeless form as vaguely
 human. "It is a body," he said, climbing into die saddle.
  
 When die others reached the spot, Toli was already stooping over the
 corpse. Toli turned it over, and the head lolled obscenely,
  
 it was nearly severed from the shoulders. The man's shattered sword
 lay in pieces beneath bun.
  
 "Someone wanted this one dead," remarked Lord Galen, "to strike such a
 blow."
  
 "Who could have done it?" wondered Sir Darclh. "There are no robbers
 abroad in this forest, surely."

  
 "Highwaymen would not have set upon such as this. See how he is
 dressed?" replied Sir Hedric. "Perhaps there was a falling out among
 thieves."
  
 "Or kidnappers," said Toli slowly. "Yes, I would swear this was one I
 dealt with in the forest earlier this day. Or another of their
 company'
  
 "But to strike him down in the road why?" Sir Dareth shook his head.
 "It makes no sense. They must have known we would find him."
  
 Toli made a quick search of the immediate area, sifting among the
 confused tracks in the dust for a clue to what had happened. But he
 gleaned little for his efforts. There were far too many prints it was
 impossible to tell how many men had passed, or who among them had
 horses and who were afoot. Still, he counted tracks of at least two
 horses, and one rider had apparently been involved in the fight that
 had ended the kidnapper's life.
  
 "I believe," said Toli, looking southward, "the King might have passed
 this way."
  
 "You think this unfortunate attacked the King?" asked Lord Galen
 incredulously. "It was ill-advised, though there must have been a
 reason."
  
 Toli nodded thoughtfully and cast a glance skyward. The sun stretched
 long shadows across the road. "We must bury him quickly. We are
 already losing the light. I want to follow the trail as long as
 possible."
  
 At Toll's command, the knights began hacking a shallow grave in the
 brush at the side of the road, using their swords for the task. Toli
 and Lord Galen examined the victim's clothing for any clue to who he
 might have been, or where he might have come from.
  
 When the corpse had been disposed of, the four set off again, though
 the sun was well down and the first of the evening stars winked
 overhead. A chill seeped out of the wood as the sky deep
  
 1 777 I
  
 ened to twilight, but the riders pressed on, heedless of their fatigue
 or the hunger beginning to gnaw just in back of their belt buckles.
  
 I am certain Quentin was back there, thought Toll as he rode along. I
 can sense it. But there was something else, too. Something very
 powerful more than the death of that unfortunate would account for.
 But what? What could it be?
  
 THIRTEEN
  
 "WELL, TIP," the round little man said, "here's a comely spot to rest
 yer bones, eh? Or shall we walk a wee bit further?" The dog looked at
 her master and wagged her tail. "Oh, quite right, quite right. We've
 come fer enough today. No sense getting amuch away from the road.
 Quite right ye are." With a clink and a clatter, Pym the tinker began
 shaking off his burdens, loosctaing packs and sacks and strings
 of pots pans and tools, all of which be carried with him on his back.
  
 But one package he placed carefully on the ground, propping it upright
 against a stone. His bright eyes glittered with glee, and he rubbed
 his hands with delight. "Now, Tipper, some firewood!" He clapped his
 hands. "Jest the thing, eh? Jest the thing. "Twill be dar king soon.
 First fetch the wood and the fire will follow, eh? Quite right."
  
 In no time the little tinker and his dog were curled before a cozy
 fire, drinking their soup, watching the stars come out in the sky as
 night settled peacefully over the land. Every now and then the man
 stole a look toward the slender, rag-wrapped package that he had
 propped up against the stone.
  
 "See that. Tip? There's our fortune he would say and then chuckle
 to himself.
  
 When they had drunk their broth and sopped the last of it with hunks of
 dry black bread, the tinker reached for the bundle and laid
  
 Tlu Sword and the Flame it across his knees. "Lookee, Tip," he said.
 "Old Pym has found our fortune. Yes, he has. I told ye he would, I
 told ye. Lookee, look!"
  
 He carefully pulled the rags away with trembling fingers. And there
 revealed in the flickering firelight was a great sword: long and thin,
 tapering almost imperceptibly along its smooth, flawless length to a
 deadly point. The grip and hilt shone in the firelight as if cut from
 gemstone.
  
 "Sech a beauty this 'un," he said, his voice hushed in awe. "This are
 no common blade, no sir. Pym can tell, he can. I know a wee bit about
 swords, you see, and this 'un*s a royal blade ifiwer I saw one. Yes,
 it is." His fingers traced the fine markings along the blade, hardly
 daring to touch it. His eyes filled with wonder at the sight of the
 weapon.
  
 The big black dog watched her master, bead on paws, listening to the
 sound of his voice.
  
 "Oh, yes," he continued, "this blade's a beauty. Niwer meant fer
 common hand. Some 'un'U give good gold fer this a fortune, ye see. As
 much as iwer I ask. Why, Tip. we 'uns'll have enough to buy a little
 wagon. Oh, yes, and another sharping stone a round un with a
 treadle-foot 'twould be fine. I could sharp knives and shears and
 plowshares and .. . and anything that needs sharping. Ye know I could.
 Tip. Ye know it. Why, we 'uns'd make our fortune!"
  
 The tinker gazed at the sword happily, still not quite believing his
 good luck. Then a shudder went through him as he remembered how he had
 found the sword.
  
 "A shame 'bout the body. Tip. Oh, terrible shame, that. But I had
 nothing to do with 't not a snip. Found him like that, you see. Come
 upon him in the road. Not long dead, I think.
  
 Ye saw him first, didn't ye. Tip? Yes. When ye let out that growl
 I knew something was amiss, didn't I? Yes. Ye don't growl without
 cause, and that were cause enough. Indeed. A man dead in the road.
 Terrible thing. Head cut near off, and this this sword lying in the
 dust beside him."
  
 He took the sword in his hand and felt its quick strength. His face
 glowed with admiration. "Old Pym knows crafter ship when he
  
 I 779 I
  
 see it. Yes, sir. Someun'U give good gold to get this back much as
 iwer I ask. Enough for a wagon and a sharping stone."
  
 A thought occurred to him. What if the one dead in the road was the
 owner? Who would give the gold then?
  
 He frowned and turned the blade in the firelight, shaking his head.
 "That 'un niwcr owned a blade like this," he said at last. "No, sir.
 No one iv vcr did but maybe a King."
  
 Another thought struck him, and his eyes grew round in fright. What if
 they think I stole it? What if they think it was Old Pym killed that
 man and took his sword?
  
 "Nol I niwcr'd kill a man, nor take his blade. Old Pym's a peaceable
 fellow. Every'un knows he is. Twas in the road. I found it there.
 How it got there, I cannot say.
  
 "But I must be careful now, oh yes. Very careful. There's some as
 would steal this away from a poor old tinker. Then poor old Pym would
 lose his fortune." He stared woefully at his prize, and then his face
 brightened once more.
  
 "We must hide it. Tip! That's what we 'uns*U do hide ill Wrap it up
 in rags and hide it somewhere so not abody can find it. We *uns*U keep
 our eyes and ears open look and listen, that's right, and sec what we
 can learn about this here sword. Yes, we 'uns ri mst hide it well, Tip.
  And so we will."
  
 Deep in the forest, night had become a black curtain that cut off all
 sight, save the occasional glimpse of the stars overhead through the
 interweaving branches. The moon had not yet risen, so the forest
 byways were difficult to follow. Prince Gerin, shuffling head down,
 exhausted by his long ordeal, longed to stretch out beneath a tree to
 rest, and let sleep steal from him the memory of this evil day.
  
 "We will stop here to rest," said Nimrood to the others. "We should
 have put them off the trail by now. We will not be found, but we must
 be careful not to be seen."
  
 The men were too tired to speak. They stood wearily on their feet and
 looked about them, wondering dully how the old man leading them found
 the strength to keep going. "Hate is what keeps him afoot," whispered
 one guard to the other. "Look at him, old as he is, and still spry as
 ever. He'd walk all night."
  
 TktSswrdaxdtJw Flams
  
 "He might) bat I cannot," answered the man next to him.
  
 "You there!" snapped Nimrood. "Slop muttering and see to our
 prisoner. You will take turns guarding him. Remember, your heads are
 forfeit if he escapes."
  
 Prince Gcrin heard only part of what was said. The next thing he knew
 he was being half-dragged, half-shoved to a nearby tree, to be bound
 there with a cord {or the night. He did not right; he was too
 sleepy.
  
 "There now," said his guard. "Be good and give us no trouble, young
 sir. We do not wish to harm you, but you must not try to get away that
 could be very painful indeed."
  
 Gcrin only looked sleepily at the man, yawned, and lay back against the
 tree. In a moment he was sound asleep.
  
 "Look at him," said one guard, "not a care in the world."
  
 "He is the Prince, by Ariel! No one would dare lift a hand against
 him," answered his companion.
  
 "Keep your voice down!" the other rasped. "Don*t let Longbeard hear
 you."
  
 "Ah, Longbeard. Now there's a cold one. He is trouble I said so from
 the start. Look what has happened: one dead, the Prince kidnapped.
 This could bring down the temple!"
  
 "Shh! He watches us! Remember, we are trying to save the temple."
  
 "This business is no good ... no good at an' the guard mumbled.
 He yawned and then settled himself to sleep.
  
 The other sat down on a rock, chin in hand, to wait his watch. He
 glanced around at the others, already sleeping. Their snores droned
 softly into the night air. He nib bed his neck and shook his head as he
 felt the weariness engulf him. Yes, he thought, Ervis is right. This
 is abad business. It could well bring the temple tumbling down about
 our ears. But I am not to blame. I only do what I am told. The High
 Priest himself ordered it. What choice did I have?
  
 He pulled his cloak around him and folded his arms over his chest; his
 head nodded, and soon he was sleeping like all the rest.
  
 Quentin's eyes burned and his back ached; he had been in me saddle all
 day and was not accustomed to it. He could feel his sore muscles
 stiffening as the chill of night seeped into his bones. Ignoring his body's plea to stop and rest, he pulled his short cloak more
 tightly around him and plodded on.
  
 The trail had grown too dark to see hours ago, but still he traveled
 on, hoping by some miracle that he would stumble across the kidnappers.
 Knowing that his son was still out there somewhere in the dark,
 frightened, held prisoner that thought alone kept him going.
  
 Heartsick, numb with misery and despair, Quentin wanted only to throw
 himself to the ground to weep at his misfortune. A few short hours ago
 he had walked in the light, his realm secure, the future a bright
 promise. Now there was only darkness. In the space of half a day he
 had lost his son, his trusted friend, and worst of all the favor of the
 Most High. His mind reeled at the enormity of his trouble, his heart
 ached with sorrow, his body throbbed with grief and exhaustion,
  
 How was it possible? How could it happen so quickly? Why was there no
 warning, no hint at what was to befall him? He could only shake his
 head in mute wonder.
  
 For an instant he imagined that all he need do was turn Blazer back
 toward home and all would be well once more. Upon reaching Askelon he
 would find Durwin alive and the Prince safe in his bed. His sword would
 be found in his chambers, lying across its hangers below the royal
 device the flame intact, the god still with him.
  
 But it was a dream, and the grim reality remained unchanged. Hoping
 against hope, Quentin determined that somehow he would make everything
 right again. He could do it; he was the Dragon King. He would make it
 right. With that, he urged Blazer forward. The horse, head down,
 ambled on.
  
 FOURTEEN
  
 **THBY ARE here, my Lady; they have come." The maid approached
 quietly, lest she disturb her Queen's vigiL
  
 What? Quentin is back? He has returned She Jumped up, a brief
 light leaping to her green eyes. Then she saw the look the maid gave
 her and the light dimmed "Oh."
  
 "No, the King has not returned She shook her head, then added, "But
 Lords Theido and Ronsard are here. You asked me to fetch you as soon
 as they came. They are waiting in the hall."
  
 Queen Bria left at once and vent down to meet her old friends.
  
 "My Lady!" said Ronsard when he saw her approaching from across the
 great room. They were the only ones in it except for a few servants
 readying the tables for breakfast, which would be served within the
 hour. "How lovely you tookl" said the knight,
  
 smiling warmly.
  
 "Just as I remember your mother," added Theido. "How is
  
 Alinea?"
  
 "Theido, Ronsard, I am glad you are here at last. Forgive me for
 pulling you from your warm beds at this early hour. My mother is well.
 I am certain she will wish to receive you soon, but I would speak to
 you first."
  
 Theido saw the dark shadows behind her smile and knew that the Queen
 had summoned them on a matter of great urgency. "Perhaps this is not
 the place to discuss important things," he said. "A more private
 chamber would be better."
  
 "Yes," Bria agreed, "follow me." She led them out of the hall and
 along the wide corridor to a small room, a council room that contained
 a heavy table with bankers on either side, and a grouping of
 high-backed chairs in a further comer. The three entered, closed the
 door quietly, and took their seats facing one another. "Now then," said
 Theido gently, "what has happened?" Bria looked from one to the other
 of the two knights men she had known all her life- Trusted friends of
 her parents, they had served the Dragon King's throne numerous times
 and stood always ready to serve again. Their stalwart devotion and her
 own need overwhelmed her, and she broke down and cried.
  
 "I hardly know where 10 begin," she said, the tears streaming from her
 eyes.
  
 The two glanced at one another helplessly, both feeling the depths of
 her sorrow.
  
 "The words come hard, good sirs." She sniffed and willed herself to
 stop the tears. The knights waited for her to continue. "Durwin is
 dead," she said at last.
  
 "By the gods, no!" said Ronsard. "Say not so!"
  
 Theido held up his hand. Bria continued, "And my son has been
 taken."
  
 "When did this happen?" asked Theido. "And how was it
 accomplished?"
  
 His stern tone helped Bria to calm herself. She began to speak " more
 easily. "Yesterday, during the hunt. The Prince was to ride in the
 hunt he was so proud, it was his first. Toll rode with him. Quentin
 and Durwin went along, but were to return to Join the festival after
 leading the hum." She sniffed again, but kept her voice steady. "The
 King was a long time returning, we thought he had taken up the hunt as
 well. Then... then Toli came and... he told us what had happened ...
 Oh ..." She paused, gathered her strength, and continued. "They were
 attacked and fought off their assailants. Toli followed, but lost the
 trail. When he rejoined Durwin and Gerin they .. . Durwin was dead and
 the Prince gone. Quentin sent Toli for help. That was yesterday. I
 have not seen them since."
  
 Theido did not speak, but his dark eyes and the scowl on his face
 showed what he was thinking.
  
 Ronsard smashed a clenched fist into the arm of his chair. "Who would
 dare such a thing? It is an outrage!"
  
 Tht Sroord and llu Flams
  
 "We roust organize a search at once, though I will be frank too much
 time has passed already. If the kidnappers were on horseback, they
 could have ridden far
  
 "Still," put in Ronsard, "if ransom is their game, they may not have
 gone far at all. Indeed, they may be close at hand."
  
 Tncido nodded sharply. "Yes, yes. There is something in what you say.
 But we must hurry in any case. My Lady, in the absence of the King
 will you give us the authority to command a body of knights'
  
 "Anything you require."
  
 "Good," said Ronsard. "I know those veil who served under me. We can
 start there."
  
 "Go," Theido told him. "Roust them out, and see that they are
 outfitted for the trail. I will follow directly."
  
 Ronsard stood and gave a little bow to the Queen. He smiled stiffly
 and said, "Take courage, my Lady. We will find the boy." He strode out
 of the room and was gone.
  
 "Is there anything else you can tell us?" Theido asked Bria.
  
 "I know so little. No... I have told you all I know. Toli could tell
 you more, but he is gone. Lord Bossit might know something." She
 reached out and took Thcido's hand. "Find him, good friend. Save my
 child, as once you saved my father."
  
 Theido pressed her hand, and she felt his confidence flowing into her
 in that touch. "One way or another we will find him, I know it. I do
 not know how long it may take, but we will rescue him unharmed. You
 may believe it; you must believe it."
  
 "I do believe, and I pray that it is so," she said.
  
 "Yes, pray. Your mother has taught me the power of women's prayers.
 The god, I think, does listen most intently -to a woman's heart."
  
 "Then he has heard mine through the night." She bent her head. "Oh,
 Theido, if anything happens to him I do not th "
  
 "We will bring him back hale and whole," he soothed. "You will see."
 He stood slowly. "I must go now and find Lord Bossit. The sooner we
 make a start, the better."
  
 "Yes, go. And Theido... thank you for coming. You have no idea what
 it means to me."
  
 "Would that it were a happier time. my Lady. But these days shall
 pass quickly and all will be right again." The lanky knight dipped his
 bead to her and went out.
  
 In the last hours of the night, when all the earth was still and
 waiting for the new day, Quentin had stopped along the road to rest and
 had fallen asleep beneath a larch tree, his cloak spread over him.
 Sleep offered no release or comfort; fitful, troubled was his rest,
 broken by dreams of futile chases and violent clashes with an unseen
 enemy. There descended upon hirq a helpless, hopeless feeling of dread
 and loss which pierced his heart as cruelly as any poisoned dagger, and
 though he slept he ached with the pain.
  
 He awoke more wrung out than when he lay down, and rose wearily, stiff
 from his hard bed among the roots of the tree. In the raw red light of
 dawn, Quentin rubbed his burning eyes and set about saddling Blazer
 once more.
  
 "Quentin!" The King turned his eyes to the shout and peered into the
 dimness of the forest trail. The sun was not yet fully up and the
 shadows still lay heavy along the road, but he perceived the forms of
 riders approaching some way off. He waited, then recognized Toli
 riding toward him out of the gloom.
  
 ' "Sire, at last we have found you." The Jher's features bore the
 traces of a sleepless night, but his eyes were as sharp and quick as
 ever.
  
 "Have you seen anything?" asked Quentin.
  
 "No, my lord. Nothing, that is, except the body of an unfortunate
 lying in the road." Toli eyes examined his master carefully.
  
 "Yes," said Quentin flatly. He turned away and put his foot into the
 stirrup, climbing back into the saddle. "I saw him, too."
  
 Toli did not pursue the matter further, thinking it better to leave it
 for now. The others joined them, longing for an opportunity to
 dismount and stretch aching muscles. No one spoke directly to the King.
  His woeful countenance stilled their tongues.
  
 Only Toli had the temerity to draw him aside to speak openly. "What
 would you have us do, Kenta?" He used the affectionate name of years
 past.
  
 "Find my son!" Quentin snapped, his mood raw as the new morning.
  
 Toli wisely ignored the remark. "We should return to the castle for
 more men; we could cover more ground that way. We need fresh horses
 and supplies."
  
 "Do what you will," replied the King. His jaw was set1<! will
 continue the search alone."
  
 "Where will you go?"
  
 "South."
  
 "Why south? They could easily have turned off the trail anywhere. In
 the night we would have missed the track."
  
 "What else am I to do?" shouted Quentin. The others looked at him.
 He lowered his voice. "I have no better choice."
  
 "Return with us to Askelon. We will rest and ready ourselves for a
 proper search. We can send messengers out to all the towns and
 villages to watch for the brigands. We can "
  
 "My son has been taken. Toll!" Quentin gestured wildly to the great
 forest. "I will not return until he is found. I cannot return until
 he is safe."
  
 Toll searched the face of the one he knew so well, and yet, at this
 moment, seemed not to know at all. Something has changed my Kenta, he
 thought. This is not like him at all. Durwin's death and the
 abduction of his son tormented him, twisted him. Yes, but there was
 something more. Then he saw it the empty scabbard at Quentin's side.
 At once he understood.
  
 "Come back with us, Kenta," he said softly. "Yesterday we had a chance
 of finding them quickly. But now .. . now they have had enough time to
 cover their trail, to double back who knows where they may be by now?
 To find them we will need help, and a leader. You are the King. Who
 will lead if you will not?"
  
 "Anyone!" snapped Quentin. "Anyone better than I. You lead the
 search, Toli!" The King's eyes burned savagely, his mouth contorted
 into a snarl of hate. "Durwin's blood is on your head, as is my son's
 if anything happens to him. They would be safe now if you had not left
 them alone. You are to blame for this it is your fault!"
  
 Toli, speechless, stared at his master and friend. Never had Quentin
 raised his voice toward him, never had he shown anger toward him. But
 then, he reflected, the King is right. It is my fault;
  
 I am to blame. I should never have left them alone and in danger like
 that. I am to blame.
  
 / 787 I
  
 "I am sorry," Toli started. "Sorry "
  
 "Find my son!" shouted Quentin, his voice shrill. "Find him, or never
 let me set eyes on you again!"
  
 With that, the Dragon King slashed the reins across the stallion's neck
 and wheeled him around. Blazer tossed his handsome white head, and
 Quentin glared at Toli. "Find him," he said softly, his tone a threat.
  "Just find him."
  
 Toli stood in the road and watched his King ride away. He watched
 until a bend in the road took him from sight, then went back and
 mounted Riv, and turned toward Askelon. No one spoke. There was
 nothing to say.
  
 FIFTEEN
  
 \ NIMROOD SAT brooding on a rock, hunched like a bent old root, twisted
 with age and warped by the dark forces within him. He was waiting for
 nightfall to undertake the final leg of their journey, for they had
 reached the eastern edge of the forest and the rest of the way to the
 temple lay through open ground. He did not want to risk traveling by
 day, so they waited, restlessly.
  
 Prince Gerin, his young mind alert to all around him, was confident he
 would not be harmed; and since he appeared in no immediate danger,
 escape could wait for the right opportunity if he was not rescued
 first. He also saw quite plainly that his abductors had little spirit
 for the task they were about. But the old one, the one with the wild
 white hair and the face as lined and creased as worn leather, he was
 one to watch out for.
  
 Who was he? What did he want, and where were they taking him? These
 questions occupied the young captive as he sat on the ground beneath
 the tree, two guards with him at all times.
  
 He shifted uneasily, trying to loosen the bonds on his arms.
  
 One of the guards eyed him suspiciously, glared, but did not say
 anything.
  
 When my father comes for roe, thought Gerin, you will be very sorry. I
 hope he conics soon; I am going to miss the rest of the hunt
 otherwise.
  
 There was no doubt in the young Prince's mind that the King would come
 for him, would rescue him. All he had to do was wait.
  
 There came a sound in the wood: someone approaching quickly on foot,
 and noisily with much rustling of branches and cracking of twigs
 underfoot. Nimrood jumped up, his voice a harsh whisper. "We are
 found! Draw your weapons!"
  
 The men jumped up and drew their blades, but before anyone had a chance
 to position themselves for the attack, the intruder stumbled into camp.
 "What!" he said, startled. "No, wait!" He fell back and landed on
 his rump.
  
 "You!" said Nimrood. The man was one of the two left behind to guard
 their escape.
  
 He jumped up, glancing around quickly with frightened eyes. "I was not
 followed!" he cried. "Put away your swords!"
  
 "You better not have been followed, or I will feed you piecemeal to the
 birds. Where is your friend?" Nimrood demanded, shoving aside the
 others.
  
 "Dead " The man cast a terrified look behind him, as if expecting his
 own death to come charging out of the woods at any moment.
  
 "How?" Nimrood stood with hands on his hips, eyes boring into the
 wretch before him.
  
 "He found us on the road. He guessed all."
  
 "Who found you?"
  
 The King! He knew all about us!"
  
 "Bah!" Nimrood's countenance became threatening. The guard quaked
 with fear. "You said too much!"
  
 "No, by all the gods, I swear it! We told him nothing. He knew I
 don't know how he knew, but he did- We did not have a chance."
  
 "How many were with him?"
  
 "His Majesty the King was alone. I hid in the bushes in case we were
 forced to attack him."
  
 , / 7S9 I
  
 "And?" Nimrood stepped closer. The guard grimaced and hurried on with
 his story.
  
 "Carlin pretended to be a pilgrim, but the King knew different. We
 tried to put him off, but "
  
 "You were two against one. What happened?"
  
 The man's eyes rolled with terror. "That sword of his the Shining One!
 No man no army is a match for that! You should have seen it flash.
 The flames! It blinded us, and I threw my hands over my eyes. When I
 looked, Carlin was dead. That sword
  
 Nimrood's demeanor changed abruptly, his tone became coaxing. "Ah,
 yes, I see. You did right to come here with the news. Yes. But tell
 me" he placed a pale hand on the roan's shoulder "tell me more
 concerning that sword. The King's sword what did you call it?"
  
 "The Shining One everyone knows about it. It is enchanted "Is it?
 How so?" Nimrood smiled a thin, sly, snaky smile. "I do not seem to
 recall anything about an enchanted sword. But then, I have been long
 away from Mensandor. Tell me more about it'
  
 Eagerly the men told Nimrood about Zhaligkeer, the King's wonderful
 sword about its burning brightness, about the magic mines wherein it
 was forged, about its strange and terrible powers. ' They told about
 how Quentin, still a young man, bad come riding out of the mountains
 with the sword and, by his hand alone, smashed the invasion of the
 horrible Nin and turned certain defeat into resounding victory, when
 the Shining One quenched the fire of the Wolf Star.
  
 Legends concerning the enchanted sword, and the King who wielded it,
 had already grown large in the land, and increased with every passing
 year. It was possessed of a holy power, they said. It was enchanted
 by a god the one called Most High. Its flame was the symbol of the
 god's presence with the King, and more.
  
 Nimrood listened patiently to the various stories about the sword,
 letting the temple guards tell him what they knew. All the time the
 old sorcerer was thinking to himself. Yes, this enchanted sword is
 just the thing. "What you say is very interesting," he said at length.
 "Yes, very interesting." He turned to the man who had hist Joined
 them. "Do you have anything else to tell me?"
  
 The priest thought for a moment, desperate to please the per ve rec
 Nimrood. "Oh!"* he said, brightening. "Ye . The King said Durwin the
 one called the hermit was dead."
  
 "Oh?" Nimrood's heart fluttered in his breast. "How is that?" *"I do
 not know. He only said, "You killed Durwini'" "No one meant to kill
 him, sir," explained one of the temple guards who had been there. "It
 was an accident. He was in the way. We had to stop him to get the
 Prince."
  
 This is working better than I hoped! thought Nimrood with glee.
 Durwin dead! Ah, that pesky hermit out of the way. My revenge will be
 complete. He nodded at those around him approvingly. "Yes, accidents
 happen. It could not be helped. But you must tell me these things in
 the future. I must know everything it does not do to withhold
 information from me." "We thought you would be angry," muttered one
 near him. "Angry? Why should I be angry? Am I unreasonable?" Nimrood
 smiled again, his thin lips splitting his lined face. "No, you will
 find I am quite easy to get along with if you but tell me at once. I
 can be quite reasonable." He clapped his hands. "Now! Get some rest,

 all of you. We have far to go tonight. I want to be at the High
 Temple by first light tomorrow."
  
 All settled down to rest for their nocturnal journey. Prince Gerin,
 too, rolled up into aball, though he did nor feel like sleeping, he
 did so to hide his tears from those around him. He did not want his
 captors to see him crying for his friend Durwin At midday, Toli and the
 knights with him reached Askelon. Upon entering the inner ward yard,
 they found assembled nearly a score of knights with horses and squires
 darting here and there with provisions and equipment.
  
 "What is this?" asked Toli. He slid from his mount and hurried to a
 cluster of men standing in the center of all this activity. The ring
 parted as the Jher came near. "Theido! Ronsard!" he shouted when he
 saw them.
  
 Both men burst into grins and clapped him on the back. "We were hoping
 to see you before we rode out. And the King '* Theido halted, eyes
 narrowed. "You have seen him?"
  
 "Yes," replied Toli curtly. "He will not soon be returning."
  
 / 797 /
  
 "I sec." Theido frowned. "We must hold council and agree upon a plan
 in any case. We should not delay."
  
 "With the Queen's permission we had hoped to leave at once," said
 Ronsard.
  
 "Yes, you must leave soon. I will join you as soon as I have eaten and
 washed."
  
 "I will have food sent to the council chamber," Ronsard suggested, and
 left to arrange it. Those who had ridden through the night with Toli
 took their leave also.
  
 Theido walked Toli a few paces aside to the massive inner curtain where
 they could talk more freely. The bustle continued in the yard around
 them. Theido leaned against the great wall and folded his arms across
 his chest. His black hair was threaded with much silver, and
 his' eyebrows as well, but the years had not softened his sharp features
 if anything, age had made his appearance even more commanding.
  
 "There is trouble between you, eh?" Theido said calmly.
  
 Toli looked across the yard, staring at the activity, seeing nothing.
 He nodded.
  
 "What happened?" ! "He... my lord blames me for Darwin's death and the
 loss of his son," Toll replied simply.
  
 "I see." Theido spoke gently, trying to comfort Toli. "Certainly you
 know such accusations to be the temper of a distraught and frightened
 man."
  
 "No," said Toli, shaking his head, "it is true. It is my fault. I
 left him alone. After the first attack I went after the assailants. I
 should not have gone. I should never have left the Prince for a
 moment."
  
 "You did as you thought best. What man can do more? Durwin knew how
 to look after himself; he was no stranger to trouble. I am certain you
 did the right thing."
  
 Toli turned haunted eyes on the tall knight. "Durwin was an old man,
 Gerin a defenseless child. I failed, I tell you."
  
 "No! Think what you are saying. What has happened has happened. It
 cannot be changed. Durwin's death is not your fault. No one could have
 known. If you had stayed, it might well have been you struck down to
 bleed to death."
  
 "Better my blood than his!"
  
 "Never think that." Thcido placed a hand on Toll's shoulder. "It is
 not for you to dedde such things, my friend. We are all in the god's
 hands. It is he who directs our steps. Durwin knew that as well no,
 better than any of us."
  
 Toli rubbed his hands over his face. He felt his fatigue descending
 upon him, covering him like a heavy cloak. "I am tired."
  
 "Yes, go wash and change. You shall rest after our council. We will
 leave and begin the search."
  
 "No, I will go with you. I must."
  
 "You will need your rest. If I am not wrong, there will be plenty of
 searching for all of us. Rest while you can. Also, I would have you
 go with the Queen and the Lady Esmc."
  
 Toli looked up quickly.  "The Queen? Esme? Where are they going?"
  
 "Durwin is to be buried tomorrow. In the forest. I would go, but now
 that you arc here, I think it better that Ronsard and I lead the
 search."
  
 "I had forgotten about the funeral," said Toli ruefully. "Yes. someone
 should go with them. Very well, I will do as you suggest."
  
 He turned to leave, hestitated, and turned back. "There is something
 else." Theido waited. The Jher lowered his voice and said, "The
 King's scabbard was empty when I found him. The Shining One was
 gone."
  
 PYM, WITH his gray-muzzled dog beside him, stumped along the road
 toward Askelon. As he walked, he thought about one thing and one thing
 only: the magnificent sword he had hidden that very morning. Wrapped
 in its coverings of rags, he had placed Zhaligkeer in a hole in a great
 old hazelnut tree whose heart had long ago been burned out by
 lightning. The ancient tree was hollow, but somehow still alive. He
 then marked the tree with a little pile of stones, and stood a long
 time looking at it from all directions, so he would remember it when he
 came back.
  
 Then, collecting his tools and wares, he had rattled off through the
 forest to the road, heading once more for Askelon.
  
 But his mind was uneasy. With every step he wavered. "Mayhaps I ought
 niwer have left it," he mumbled to Tip. "Mayhaps I should fetch it
 back. Abody might find it back there, and steal it from Old Pym. Then
 there'd be no gold, and no wagon or sharping stone, neither. Oh, what
 to do? What to do?"
  
 At midday he stopped in a shady nook of linden boughs to eat a few
 morsels. He carried a rind of hard cheese with him, which he cut with
 a knife for himself and Tip. They washed it down with some water and
 munched an apple from one of his sacks.
  
 They were about ready to get back oh the road when they heard someone
 approaching. "Listen there. Tipper. Someun's coming up the road,
 hear? Who could it be? We 'uns'd best sit tight and see who 'tis."
  
 They waited and the sound became voices many voices, murmuring like a
 millrace a whole throng of people traveling south, away from Askelon.
  
 The first of the group passed by, glancing toward the tinker, but
 hurrying on. These were followed closely by twenty or more travelers,
 whole families men, women, and children, deep in conversation or
 exclaiming loudly to one another as they bundled along.
  
 Pym stepped out onto the road. "I'll be vexed. Tip. Where's all
 these 'uns agoin'?"
  
 He hailed the nearest traveler. "Ho there! Ho!" The man halted and
 looked at him. Pym scrambled up. "Where ye bound? And what's all the
 pother?"
  
 "You have not heard? Where have you been, man? Asleep? The whole
 world's aruffle!" Others halted with the man and added their voices.
 "Awful!" said one. "The gods are angry!" said someone else.
  
 "Us'n's been on this here road two days," said Pyffl. "I met not
 abody, nor noun 10 tell me nothing."
  
 Tis the Prince! Prince Gcrin," replied the first man. "His young
 lordship's been nimmed and carried off aforcd"
  
 shouted someone from behind.
  
 "Niwer say it!" cried Pym. "When did it happen "Yesterday morning
 at the hunt. Thieves took him, and slew the King's counselor!"
  
 "Oh! Oh!" Pym wagged his head in dismay.
  
 "Fifty men there were!" said a short man with a wart.
  
 "A hundred, I heard!" another yelled. Everyone nodded.
  
 "You seen anyone?" asked the first man suspiciously.
  
 Old Pym blanched at the thought. "Me? I niwer did. No, sir.
  
 Nor heard aught neither. We 'uns'd seen a hundred men. But neither
 hand nor hair have we seen 'til now. They kilt the King's minister?"
  
 "Dead, he is. Oh, the gods are wroth with the King for taking up after
 this new god of his, this Most High. They are angry, and they are
 showing their ire! This will teach him."
  
 Pym muttered morosely, "This be a dark day. A dark day indeed."
  
 "Aye," they all agreed, and then hastened off down the road once
 more.
  
 Pym started on his way again, stopping several succeeding groups to
 inquire of them also, and all told the same sad story. It was on
 everyone's lips, and would surely be the topic of conversation for some
 time, upsetting the festival as it had.
  
 "A deed most foul. Tip," said Pym as they walked along, still
 proceeding toward Askelon, though all they met were going the other
 way, back to their villages and towns in the south, to spread the word.
 In a week there would not be a single man in all Mensandor who did not
 know what had happened. "Aye, a deed most foul."
  
 Quentin pushed relentlessly onward. Early in the day he had forsaken
 the road and begun combing the side trails first this way and then the
 other hoping to chance across some sign that the assassins had passed
 through. He found nothing, and with every league descended into a
 torment and anguish deeper than he had ever known. It seemed at times
 as if his spirit was tearing itself in two, as if his innermost self
 was being wracked and tortured.
  
 Why? he kept asking himself. Why has this happened to me? Help your
 servant. Most High! Help me! Why is there no answer? Why do I feel
 alone? He has left me, the god has cast me aside.
  
 That thought alone might have crushed him, but fear for his son and
 grief for Durwin added their weight until he thought his heart would
 burst.
  
 Still, he kept on, pushing himself, willing himself to go further,
 stopping only to rest Blazer now and then, and to drink. He continued
 southward, and as the day bent toward evening he smelled the salt air
 of the sea in the breeze and knew he must be nearing the coast.
  
 At dusk he rode out of the forest and climbed a sandy bluff overlooking
 the sea. Gerfallon lay dark and wine-colored in the setting sun.
 Overhead, abank of vermilion clouds scudded ashore on the landward
 wind. Behind them darker clouds gathered, tomorrow would see rain.
  
 Quentin dismounted and allowed Blazer to crop the sweet green grass
 that grew long on the bluff. To the west lay Hinsenby, though he could
 not sec it; and to the east the Sipleth slid darkly to the sea, its
 waters cool from the melt of snow on the high Fiskills.
  
 Ahead, out across the water, lay the hulking mass of the island
  
 Holy Island it was called rising dark from the water: mysterious,
 uninviting; the source of many stories and much speculation from times
 past remembering. The island, green with vegetation and dark with
 ancient forests, was uninhabited though in older times there were those
 who attempted to make a home there. But these settlements never lasted
 long a few years at the most, and then they were gone. The island was
 the dwelling of some local gods who did not wish to share their home
 with mortals, some said.
  
 Local rumors maintained that the eerie island had once been a place of
 worship for the early inhabitants of Mensandor, the war loving and
 blood-lusting Shoth who practiced their brutish religion of torture and
 human sacrifice within its cloaked forests, drinking the blood of their
 victims and eating their flesh. And it was widely believed that there
 were those who still followed the religion of the
  
 I 797 /
  
 Shoth, that weird rites still took place from time to time in secret.
 Voices were heard to emanate from the island's night-cloaked shores,
 and sometimes the blood-red light of midnight fires could be seen.
  
 Holy Island was also purported to be a place of power lingering from
 ancient days when the gods themselves walked the earth in full sight of
 men, when the inexplicable was commonplace: dreams, disappearances,
 apparitions, and miracles.
  
 Through the gathering dusk that island seemed to beckon Quentin. Its
 bumped shape rose from the flat sea like the head and shoulders of a
 lordly sea creature, regarding the land with infinite patience. Come,
 it said. See what is here. Do you fed my power? Do you fear it? Come
 if you dare.
  
 Quentin stirred and walked down the seaward side of the bluff, still
 staring at the island lying only a short distance out less than half a
 league. He found a trail along the face of the dune leading down to
 the shore. Without a thought he followed the trail, weariness guiding
 his steps. And with each flagging footfall his strength ebbed; he had
 not eaten all day, and had rested little. He felt lightheaded and
 weak, as if he were a husk, hollow, and brittle, and light, to be blown
 by the wind where it willed.
  
 Yet he walked down the winding trail to the sea, letting his feet take
 him, his mind and body drained by exhaustion.
  
 On the rocky shingle the waves lapped gentle, gurgling endearments onto
 the shore. Birds, searching for a roost for the night, swung through
 the air toward hollows and nests in the bluffs peeked face, their
 keening night calls shrill in the stillness. The sea wind freshened,
 and the clouds above darkened by degrees to violet. An evening mist
 clung to the upper heights of the island a shroud to discourage prying
 eyes. High up on the dune behind him he heard Blazer whinny, but kept
 his eyes on the island as if mesmerized by its presence.

  
 Queotin walked a little way along the strand, unaware of what he was
 doing or where he was going. He had no thought now except to walk, to
 go wherever his feet would take him.
  
 He came to a smooth, rounded form on the beach, discernible in the
 dying light as a dark object against a slightly less dark background.
 He stumbled toward it, and his mind conjured up an image of the wretch
 he had cut down in the road. Slowly he approached, trembling at the
 thought of encountering that corpse again. Drawing near, he stopped
 toward the thing and put out a hand. Hair!
  
 He recoiled from the touch. Was it an animal of some sort, dead and
 washed up on the shore?
  
 But beneath the shag he had felt a hardness that was not like flesh,
 not even dead flesh. The shape of the thing was like no animal he had
 ever encountered. He put out his band again and rubbed it along the
 hard, bristly surface, then pushed the object. It gave against the
 rocks and made a hollow sound. Then he knew what it was.
  
 Quentin bent down and grasped the lower edge of the thing and flipped
 it over. The ox-hide boat, constructed of a design that went back a
 thousand years, rocked on its keel, its oar was tied with a leather
 cord to the crude seat in the center of the craft, and made a thumping
 sound as that of a drum.
  
 He grabbed the bow of the boat and shoved it over the rocks and into
 the sea, then clambered in while the water splashed over his boots. He
 took up the oar and began paddling toward the island.
  
 Out from land the sea was quiet, the only sound the dip of the jOar as
 it swirled the water. A deep sadness welled up from inside , him. It
 had been there all along, but now, as tired as he was, he could no
 longer keep it down and it came flooding up like a spring. He looked
 into the deep blue water all around, so silent, so peaceful. How
 restful it would be to slip over the side of the little boat and drift
 down and down beyond thought, beyond pain, beyond remembering.
  
 But the King kept paddling, and the night gathered its velvet robes
 around him as the land fell away behind, still outlined by the
 iron-blue of the sky above. In a little while he felt a scrape along
 the bottom of the boat, and then a jolt told him that he had reached
 the shore of Holy Island.
  
 Quentin heaved himself out of the boat and pulled it well up on shore,
 then stalked into the forest that came right down to the water's edge,
 striking along an ancient trail through the trees and bushes.
  
 How long he walked, he did not know or care. His legs moved of a
 volition all their own, pacing off the steps rhythmically and slowly.
 There 'was no hurry; he had no destination. Inside, his mind, benumbed
 with fatigue, churned lazily, functioning ever more slowly, offering no
 light, no insight.
  
 His eyes stared straight ahead but saw nothing. It was dark, too dark
 to see anything except the branches of the nearest trees. He listened
 only to his own breathing and his own heartbeat, for the island was as
 silent as any tomb, and as full of unseen presences.
  
 Quentin began to feel that he, too, was but a thing of insubstantial
 vapors: a wraith with no corporeal existence, doomed to roam the world
 by night, vanishing by dawn's light; a vague, lingering presence
 consigned to a shadow-world where only shades walked, each wrapped in a
 private torment, alone and uncomforted for all eternity.
  
 The moon rose in the trees, a cold glowing eye that watched unkindly,
 shedding little light. Weariness draped itself over his shoulders like
 a leaden garment, awakening in Quentin a dull ache that throbbed
 through him with every step.
  
 I must rest, he thought. I must stop soon and rest. I am tired. So
 tired. But he went on, not knowing where.
  
 After a time he came to a place where the trees stopped, and ahead,
 shining with the moon's silver light, spread a lawn that swept in a
 gentle downward curve to meet a lake. Where the lawn and water met
 there was formed an arcing crescent a shimmering moon to mirror the
 heavenly orb.
  
 Quentin marched down to the edge of the lake and stopped, staring
 across the glass-smooth surface. Here and there the water winked with
 the reflected light of a star. Quentin looked down into the water and
 saw only a forlorn and haggard face peering back at him.
  
 A willow tree grew near the water; long, sweeping branches dipped down
 and limply, lightly brushed the surface of the lake. The leaves on the
 branches formed teardrops that fell in never ending cascades into the
 lake, watering it as a fountain of sorrow.
  
 Quentin went to the old willow and slumped down beneath the trailing
 limbs. It was dry here, and dark. He rested his head against the
 rough, knotted trunk and pulled his cloak more tightly around him.
  
 Sleep claimed him then for its own. He did not feel his eyes closing,
 or mark his passing into sleep's dark dominion. To Quentin it was all
 the same.
  
 SEVENTEEN
  
 ALTHOUGH THE castle sounds had hours ago taken on subdued night voices,
 and the funeral party would leave early in the morning for the burial
 site in Petgrin Forest, Toli was still awake. He lay on his bed, hands
 clasped behind his head, gazing upward at the flickering shadow of his
 bedpost on the wall above him. His mind returned once and again to the
 painful confrontation with ; Quentin that morning. He heard again the
 stinging words, "You are to blame ... It is your fault!" Like a lash
 that bit into the flesh, the words tortured him, and he could not
 escape their fierce judgment. In the midst of his anguish he heard a
 knock at his chamber's outer door, muted but distinct.
  
 He rose, went silently to the door, and opened it. "Yes, yes. Who
 Esme!" He covered his surprise and opened the door wider to let her
 in.
  
 "Toli, I..." she began, her eyes pleading, "it is Bria."
  
 She backed away, pulling Toli out into the corridor.
  
 "What has happened? What is wrong?" '
  
 "She stands out on the bartizan and will not come in. She stares as if
 transfixed. I do not know what to do, or how to move her."
  
 They hurried quietly along the wide passage to the royal chambers,
 their shadows flitting beside them over the rough walls. "How long has
 she been out there?" he asked.
  
 "When I brought her supper, she was standing there and told
  
 The Sword awl the Flame me to leave it, and when I came back a little
 while ago to see her asleep, her bed was unturned and her food
 untouched."
  
 Toli nodded but said nothing until they reached the royal apartments;
 Esme opened the door and went in quietly, Toli following. They passed
 through several rooms and came out onto the balcony where Bria stood
 motionless as carved stone, staring out into the moon-drenched night.
  
 Toli took one long look and then turned to Esme. "Go and find Alinea,"
 he said softly. "It may be that she can be of help here."
  
 With a nod Esme left. Toli turned and went out on the bartizan. The
 night was cool and still, crickets chirped among the vines that grew up
 along the walls.
  
 "My Lady," he said gently, "it is very late, and we have much to do
 tomorrow."
  
 The Queen did not move or make a sign that she had heard or even
 noticed Toll's presence. It was as if she were under a sorcerer's
 spell and could be touched by nothing of the world around her.
  
 Toli reached out a hand and took her arm. It was cool to the touch,
 and though she did not resist she also did not move. "My Lady," Toli
 insisted, "you must rest."
  
 There was a brushing tread on the stone of the balcony, and Alinea,
 with a shawl over her arm, approached. "Bria, my dear, it is your
 mother." She took the shawl and placed it over her daughters
 shoulders, speaking in soothing tones. "Come away, my darling."
  
 Alinea glanced at Toli and Esme. Toli stepped aside and motioned for
 Esme to follow him. The two retreated to an inner chamber.
  
 When they were alone, Alinea put her arms around her daughter and held
 her. "Dear Bria," she sighed, "I can only wonder what you must
 feel."
  
 A shudder passed through the younger woman's body. Alinea continued in
 soothing tones to reassure her. At length there came a sigh and Bria
 turned her eyes, glassy from their long vigil, toward her mother. "He
 is out there. Mother," she said, her voice full of pain. "My little
 one, my son, my beautiful boy. He is gone. I shall never see him
 again. I know it. I... shall... nev... Oh, Mother!"
  
 At once the tears welled up and began rolling down her fair
  
 / 801 i cheeks. She buried her face in her hands. Alinea pulled her
 tightly to her and stroked her auburn tresses.
  
 In the chamber beyond, Toli and Esme heard the long, agonized sobs and
 turned away, embarrassed. They crept softly to the corridor to wait.
  
 The silence between them grew awkward, neither one could speak, though
 both knew that someone should. Esme glanced tentatively at Toli; he
 looked back. She dropped her eyes. He fumed away.
  
 At last the silence became unendurable. Toli opened his mouth and
 stammered, "Esme, I... I "
  
 The door beside them opened, and Alinea appeared. Her deep green eyes
 reflected the depths of her sorrow, but her voice was calm and
 comforting. "She will sleep now, I think," she said simply, having
 accomplished what only a mother could. "You two must also rest. These
 next days will be difficult for us all."
  
 "Thank you, my Lady," said Esme. "I am sorry "
  
 "Shh. Say no more. I will look in again before morning, but I am
 certain she will sleep soundly."
  
 "Good night," said Toli and turned away at once. The two women watched
 him go.
  
 "That one bears the full weight of care on his shoulders," said Alinea.
 "I wish Quentin were here he would know how to deal with him. No one
 else can give him counsel."
  
 Esme did not speak, but turned mournful eyes toward the Queen.
  
 "So much hurt in this world," Alinea continued. "How fragile our
 happiness. When it is gone, it seems as if it never was and is never
 to be regained. But all things move under heaven according to the Most
 High's will. Nothing happens that he does not see."
  
 "Where is the comfort in that?" asked Esme, her voice filled with
 dismay. "Oh, this Most High of yours I will never understand him."
  
 Alinea looked kindly at the woman beside her. She gathered her under
 her arm much as she had done with Bria a few moments before, and led
 her along the corridor back to her rooms. "Ah, Esme, I thought I would
 never understand either. But Durwin would tell me, understanding comes
 through faith, not the other way around." I used to puzzle over that
 endlessly."
  
 "What does it mean?"
  
 "It means that there are many things about the Most High which faith
 alone can see. I have learned that all the reasons and all me thought
 in all the world still cannot bring one closer to belief. Belief must
 come from the heart."
  
 Esmc shook her head slowly. They had reached her chamber door; she
 turned to face Almea, taking her hands. "This god is very different
 from any I know. The others require neither Aim nor understanding, but
 are content with presents and oblations. It is so much simpler'
  
 Alinca smiled. "Yes, the old gods are simpler. But they do not care
 what happens to men. They do as they will. But the Most High cares
 very much more than you can ever know."
  
 "That, at least," said Esme as she turned to go in, "is something worth
 believing. Good night, my Lady. Thank you for your words. Good
 night."
  
 Under night's dark veil the travelers moved with quick stealth. They
 kept to the road as much as possible, pushing eastward, avoiding the
 villages along the way, giving them wide berth in order to escape
 detection.
  
 Prince Gerin trudged along with his head down, though he remained alert
 to any possibility of escape. He had overheard one of his guards say
 that by morning they would reach their destination. If he was going to
 escape, he reasoned, it would be best to try sooner rather than
 later.
  
 He had thought about little else all day, having grown tired of waiting
 for someone to come rescue him. Why don't they come? he wondered.
 What can be keeping them? They must be looking for me. They must
 certainly know where I have gone. Perhaps they cannot find me. Yes,
 that is iti Oh, this old Longbeard is a crafty one. He has so muddled
 our trail that no one can find me. Yes, I must escape. Tonight.
  
 It was settled in his mind. As soon as the attention of his guards one
 standing at either side of him, and another leading his
  
 / 803 I
  
 pony wavered, or their grip slackened, he would be off. They could not
 catch him; he would outrun them once on horseback. That was his plan.
 Now he waited for his opportunity.
  
 It came when they arrived at a crossroads. One road angled away to the
 north, toward the small village along the Arvin.  The other led on,
 rising gradually as it proceeded eastward toward the Fiskill Mountains.
 The town of Narramoor lay straight ahead; a little further to the east
 and north stood the High Temple on its plateau overlooking the valley
 and all the realm beyond.
  
 They paused. "We will go around the town to the south," said Nimrood,
 "and then to the temple."
  
 "But there is a shorter way, to the north," protested one of the
 guards. Others nodded.
  
 "Yes, shorter," Nimrood hissed, "and more prying eyes to see us pass
 by."
  
 "We know a path " started the guard.
  
 "Silence!" rasped Nimrood. He took a menacing step forward. "We will
 do as I say!" He thrust a finger in the man's face. "I am your
 master!"
  
 The man stepped backward, tripped, and fell over a stone in the road.
 The other guards watched him, their attention momentarily diverted.
  
 That was all Prince Gerin needed. Quick as the flick of a cat's tail
 he leapt into the saddle and snatched the reins out of the startled
 guard's hands, wheeled Tarky around, and started away.
  
 "Stop him!" screamed Nimrood. "Stop him, you fools!"
  
 Instantly the temple guards snapped to attention. The two nearest dove
 for him, but the horse dodged away; they landed with a grunt in the
 road. Another darted toward him from the side. Gerin lashed out with
 the reins. The man yelled and threw his hands over his face.
  
 "You fools!" screeched Nimrood. "He is getting away!"
  
 The young Prince leaned down low in the saddle and kicked the horse in
 the ribs, urging him to speed. The guards dashed after him on either
 side, their dark shapes little more than shadows. The horse caught the
 movement out of the corner of his eye and shied, throwing his rump in
 the air. It was all Gerin could do to bold on.
  
 Tfw Sword and the Flame
  
 The guards now ringed them in, waving their hands and shouting, hoping
 to spook the animal.
  
 The frightened horse bolted and buck cd tossing his head wildly. Gcrin
 clung to the pony's mane, pressing his legs together, fighting to
 remain in the saddle. The horse neighed with fright and reared,
 kicking up his hooves at the dancing shapes around him.
  
 Then Gerin saw an opening. Pulling the reins aside with all his might,
 he turned his steed toward the break in the ring. The horse saw the
 opportunity, too and dashed for it instantly.
  
 The next thing Gcrin knew, the stars and moon were spinning crazily
 before him; he felt himself falling, sliding, tipping back over the
 rump of the horse. Then the ground came up hard and knocked the wind
 out of him.
  
 He lay like a sack of grain tumbled into the road, unable to breathe.
 Rough hands took hold of him, hauled him to his feet, and shook him;
 breath poured into his lungs.
  
 He peered around dazedly and saw Tarky bounding away riderless down the
 road, two guards scurrying after him. Had there been a flash of light?
  A noise? The sound of thunder still rang in his ears.
  
 What was it that had so suddenly appeared in his path? What caused the
 horse to rear and throw him? He remembered seeing the old man raise
 his hand high above his head .. then the earth and sky changed places
 by what force or power, the boy did not know. Blazing violet balls of
 light still bobbed before his eyes; he shook his head, but they
 remained, fading away only slowly.
  
 "The youngster has spirit," intoned Nimrood. "But it must be bent to
 our purposes. Young sir, if you wish to remain alive and whole, you
 will abandon any further notions of escape." Nimrood leaned close, his
 vile breath hot in the Prince's face. "Otherwise, when they come for
 you they will find nothing worth the ransom."
  
 A guard came up, panting. "That cursed beast is gone; we cannot catch
 him."
  
 "Idiots! Another mistake!" With slits of eyes guttering cruelly, the
 old man glared around at the chagrined faces encircling him, his long
 white beard glowing in the moonlight like a frozen waterfall. "The High
 Priest will hear of your incompetence. I am certain he will devise a
 punishment to suit me."
  
 Nimrood turned abruptly and started off once more. The guards stood
 still and watched him. "Bring him." The voice was flat and hard. The
 guards fell over themselves to obey. Prince Gerin was jerked by the
 arms and dragged along, his feet barely touching me ground, as they
 continued on their way.
  
 EIGHTEEN
  
 A PALE moon poured molten silver into the bowl of the lake. The water
 shone hard and black like glass smoked in a fire, and the willow's
 teardrop leaves pear led with dew. Above, the sable sky held sparks of
 diamond stars, tips of light as cold and sharp as ice.
  
 Quentin awoke with a start out of a stony sleep and stared
 uncomprehendingly around him. Where am I? he wondered. How have I
 come to be here?
  
 Then he remembered rowing to the island and walking and walking, then

 sinking into sleep. Though his mind was a jumble of half-formed
 thoughts and fragments of unfinished dreams, waking in this place, he
 felt strangely certain that he had been drawn here, summoned, and then
 awakened at the proper moment by the same force that had brought him.
  
 His senses pricked. The place seemed alive with the presence of gods;
 if he listened very carefully, he could almost hear the murmur of their
 spirit-voices calling 10 one another as they plied night's distant
 shores.
  
 Quentin felt the nearness of these beings, and his blood quickened.
 The gods had gathered close about; they watched from every shadow as
 from behind velvet curtains, and Quentin imagined their dispassionate
 eyes upon him.
  
 He rose, stiff from his exertion, wrapped his arms across his chest,
 and gazed out across the lake. Mist rose like steam from the still
 water to thicken and drift in curling tendrils toward the crescent lawn
 like searching fingers. Quentin stepped to the water's edge and
 waited. The ghostly white mist seeped and flowed and eddied on unseen
 currents in the air, spreading ever nearer. He waited, stomach taut,
 the night chill stinging his flesh, the sense of expectancy almost
 overpowering. Blood pulsed rapidly through his veins; he could hear it
 drumming rhythmically in his cars. All around lay deathly silent.
  
 Quentin stood at the edge of the silver lake and watched as the
 shifting vapors erected lacework walls over the mirrored surface. As
 be gazed out over the water, the mist rolled and parted and there
 emerged a dark shape drifting slowly toward him across the lake.
 Quentin saw that it was a small boat gliding silently from the
 wreathing vapors.
  
 No oarsman rowed the vessel, no pilot steered. Wide of hull and low in
 the water, it drew nearer and came at last to rest at the King's feet,
 bumping softly against the grass-covered bank.
  
 He lifted his foot cautiously and stepped into the mysterious craft as
 if he thought that it might vanish into the mist once more. But the
 boat proved solid enough, and Quentin sat down amidships. Then, just
 as silently and mysteriously as before, the ghostly vessel floated away
 from the shore, bearing him back across the lake the way it had come.
  
 Sitting stiffly on the wooden bench, Quentin watched as his ship
 entered the encircling mist. The solid world faded from view, and he
 was swallowed whole into a netherworld of cloud and insubstantial
 vapor. He might have been floating or flying, so softly and gently did
 the boat ride. Not a ripple marked their passage. Straining eyes and
 ears into the void, he saw and heard nothing.
  
 After a time the mist thinned and parted, and the little craft drifted
 out into a shallow lagoon rimmed with the massive slabs of great
 standing stones.
  
 There was some magic in this place; Quentin could feel it now, tingling
 over him, licking at his face and limbs with subtle fire.
  
 Then he saw the figure.
  
 / 807 I
  
 Before him at the water's edge stood a man clothed in a long white
 mantle' that glowed in the moon's radiant beams. He beckoned to
 Quentin to follow, and as the boat touched shore, Quentin stepped out
 and hastened after the figure.
  
 They moved across the lawn to the giant stones, passing between them
 into a circle of smaller stones, many of them leaning or fallen. These
 stones, like others Quentin had seen in Mensandor, had once stood one
 upon another in rings at the worship sites of the ancients. The rings
 were erected in places of power where gods were said to touch the
 earth.
  
 As they entered this sacred circle of stone, Quentin saw a fire burning
 brightly and meat roasting on spits. The white-clothed figure sat down
 on one of the tumbled stones which had grown thick with green moss and
 white-flecked lichen. The man smiled warmly and gestured for Quentin
 to sit. Though no words bad passed between them, Quentin felt welcomed
 and unafraid. He watched while the man tended the spits.
  
 The stranger was tall, his body well-formed and fit, his features
 broad, but not coarse or heavy. There was strength in the cut of his
 Jaw and chin. His long dark hair swept back and was bound in a thong
 at the back of his head in the manner of prophets or seers. The man's
 eyes were dark, quick firebrands that sparked in the light of the
 campfire as he adjusted the roasting meat on the fire with his strong
 hands.
  
 The fire cracked and ticked, throwing grotesque shadows over the
 standing stones. A thousand questions boiled in Quentin's mind, but he
 remained silent. No word seemed appropriate for this place. So he sat
 in the warm circle of light and waited.
  
 At last the stranger reached for a nearby jug and poured from it into a
 wooden cup which he offered to Quentin. "Are you hungry
  
 "Yes!" replied Quentin, startled that the man should speak,
  
 "Good." He laughed, the sound deep and resonant an earth sound, the
 sound of forest and hill and streams rolling to the sea.
  
 Quentin laughed too, caught up in the delight of that voice.
  
 "I thought you might be hungry, so I fixed you something to eat,"
 explained the mysterious host. "It has been a long journey, and you
 have ridden far."
  
 "How did you know?"
  
 His host only smiled and replied, "I know a great many things about
 you."
  
 There was something familiar, hauntingly familiar, about the man; his
 voice and manner Quentin was certain he had known before. But where?
 The memory eluded him. "There arc many who might make a similar
 claim," said Quendn. "My name is well enough known."
  
 "Well said," replied the man. Mirth danced in his eyes. "You are the
 Dragon King of Mensandor, and truly many men know your name. But I
 know a good deal more."
  
 "Please continue," said Quentin. Who was this man?
  
 "I know that you are an honorable man whose friends are many- And that
 you recently lost a friend, one very dear to you. I also know that you
 stand in danger of losing another even dearer."
  
 "Is that all?"
  
 "It is enough for now, I think. Here, the meat is ready." He handed
 Quentin one of the skewers and kept one, took up his wooden cup, and
 drank.
  
 Quentin drank, too, and thought he had never tasted water so fresh and
 good. He pulled a piece of meat from the spit and ate it, all the
 while watching the stranger beside him. "What is your name?" he
 asked.
  
 "Call me your friend, for friend I am."
  
 "Friend? Nothing more?"
  
 "What more is needed?"
  
 Quentin ate his food thoughtfully. Who was this friend? And why did
 he seem so familiar? He drank again and asked, "Where am I? What is
 this place?"
  
 The man did not answer, but instead asked a question of his own. "You
 see these stones?"
  
 Quentin nodded.
  
 "They were erected and stood for many hundreds of years. But now they
 lie abandoned and overthrown. The gods in whose honor they were raised
 come no more to this place- Why do you think that is?"
  
 Quentin considered this for a moment and then replied, "Could it be
 that the old gods are dying, or that they never existed in the
  
 / W9 I
  
 first place? There are those who say a new era has come upon UK) and a
 new god is making himself known."
  
 "What do you say?"
  
 "I believe," Quentin said slowly, choosing his words carefully, "I
 believe that times change, yes, and new eras are born, but there is only
 one god who is god of all. Whether other gods exist or never did, I
 cannot say."
  
 "Strange words from an acolyte," said the stranger. His smile was
 elusive and suggested he held some greater secret to himself.
  
 But Quentin was stunned it had been a long time since he had been
 called an acolyte. He had nearly forgotten that he ever served in the
 temple at all; that seemed long ago. "I was but a boy," he replied.
  
 "Times change, as you say. But old ways die hard, do they not?"
  
 Quentin said nothing. The man looked around the ring of fallen stones.
  "Why do you suppose men honor their gods with stone?"
  
 "Stone endures," said Quentin.
  
 "Yes, but as you see, even stone falls in the end. What is it that
 endures after stone has crumbled to dust?"
  
 Quentin recognized this question as one that his old teacher Yeseph,
 the elder of Dekra, had asked him as a pupil many years ago. Old
 Yeseph, dead now and buried years before. "Man's spirit endures," said
 Quentin, That had been the answer Yeseph had sought.
  
 "And love endures," the man said simply. "Would it not make more sense
 to honor the god with love instead of temples made of stone?"
  
 Again a pang of guilt arrowed the King. Who was this man?
  
 "Quentin," he said softly, "do not be afraid."
  
 "I am not " began Quentin. The man raised a hand and cut him off.
  
 "And do not give yourself to despair. Your enemies seek to humble you,
 to mock the god you serve. Trust in the Most High, and he will raise
 you up,"
  
 The man stood and smiled again. "The boat will take you back across
 the water."
  
 Quentin jumped up. "Do not go! Please "
  
 "I must My time here is finished. I wanted to see you Just once more,
 and to say farewell."
  
 "No!" cried Quentin, throwing himself to his knees. "Stay with me. I
 would bear morel"
  
 "It is not to be. But never fear, we will be together again. I am
 certain of it." The man smiled his gentle smile and laid aband on
 Quentin's head.
  
 Queniin felt a rush of warmth Hood through him at the touch. The panic
 that had come upon him ceased.
  
 "Before, I did not get the chance to say good-bye as I would have
 wished." The man raised Quentin to his feet and wrapped him in a hug.
 After a moment, clasping his friend's shoulders with both hands, he
 held the King back at arm's length and said, "Good-bye,
  
 my friend."
  
 "Good-bye," said Quentin. He stood and watched as the man turned and
 walked toward the wood, passing between two great slabs of stone as
 through a doorway.
  
 The mist rolled up and removed him from Quentin's sight, and be was
 gone.
  
 NINETEEN
  
 THE FUNERAL procession left at dawn and rode through the quiet streets
 ofAskelon bearing the body of the beloved hermit on a black-draped bier
 drawn by two of Toll's finest white horses. It went to the north where
 Pelgrin Forest met the plain at its closest point to the castle, a
 distance of about a league.
  
 The day was fair and warm, the sun rosy-gold in the treetops as it
 climbed into heaven's great bowl of cloud-scrubbed blue. The air, soft
 and still, held the sweetness of wildflowers that grew in haphazard
 clusters across the tableland pink and yellow sun lilies but
  
 I 811 I
  
 tercups and blue buttons white laccleaves and tiny purple lady's
 slippers.
  
 Toll rode Riv and led the bier; Esme and Bria followed, and Alinea came
 in a coach with Princess Brianna on one side other and Princess Elena
 on the other. Nearly three score mourners made up the cortege lords
 and ladies, knights, squires, household servants, and townspeople all
 friends of the hermit, for he welcomed every man, whether of high
 position or of meaner birth, as friend.
  
 And though their errand was a sad one, the day was so bright and the
 feeling of life so intense that it was not possible for any of the
 mourners to remain genuinely sorrowful.
  
 "How strange it is," remarked Bria, thinking about this very thing.
 "Today I feel newly cleansed. As if the past days have been an unhappy
 dream that vanished with the dawn."
  
 "Yes,"* agreed Esme. "I feel the same way. And yet, / have not
 changed the whole world seems to be newborn."
  
 They continued to talk this way, and behind them in the coach the
 little Princesses plied their grandmother with questions. Princess
 Elena had never attended a funeral, and Princess Brianna only one that
 ofYeseph; but she had been ababy less than a year old and did not
 remember it.
  
 "Grandmother, what will happen to Durwin?"
  
 "Nothing bad, my child. His body will rest now in the earth," Alinea
 answered.
  
  
 "But won't he get cold?" piped Elena.
  
 "No, never again."
  
 "I know what will happen," said Brianna importantly. "He will turn
 into bones!"
  
 "How awful!" cried little Elena, her eyes sparkling at the mystery of
 it. "Will I turn into bones, too?"
  
 "Not for a very long time, my dear one. But someday, yes. Everyone
 dies, and their bodies turn into bones and dust."
  
 "I do not think I shall like it," said Elena, growing pensive.
  
 "I will!" announced Brianna, determined to make the best of any
 situation.
  
 "I do not believe you will even know what has happened, nor will you
 care. You will begin a wonderful new life somewhere else."
  
 "Where? Oh, tell us about it. Grandmother," they said.
  
 "Very well. There is a great kingdom far away the kingdom of the Most
 High. When you die you will go there and live with him. It is a
 wondrous place and more beautiful than anything you have ever seen.
 You will leave your body you will not need it anymore, because you will
 have a new body and go live in happiness forever."
  
 "Is that where Durwin has gone?"
  
 "Yes, that is where he has gone. He has gone to be with the Most
 High."
  
 "Will we sec Durwin again when we get there?" asked Elena.
  
 **0f course. He will be waiting for us."
  
 "And Grandfather Eskevar, too?" Brianna wanted to know.
  
 "Yes, Eskevar too." Alinea smiled. The children were so trusting, so
 innocent and unsuspicious. They believed what she told them without
 needing proofs or assurances. Theirs was a most simple and indulgent
 faith, with room for many questions but little doubt.
  
 "Oh," said Brianna matter-of-factly, "I shall go at once then. I
 should love to see Grandfather."
  
 "It would make us sad if you went right away, dear one," replied
 Alinea, smoothing the girl's hair. "For then we would not see you
 anymore. Stay with us a little while longer, please."
  
 "Very well," agreed Brianna, "I will. I would not like to leave you.
 Grandmother." She snuggled in closer.
  
 Of all who traveled in that party only Toll did not feel the wonder of
 the day. He rode silently, eyes ahead, unseeing, his mind
 concentrating on affairs that ripped at his heart and made him want to
 cry out in agony, I have failed my master. I have disgraced myself and
 brought ruin upon the King. He was right; it was all my fault. My
 fault alone. Yes, Durwin's blood is on my head. I am responsible I
 should never have left them alone. If I had been there, Durwin would
 still be alive, and the Prince would be safe. None of this would ever
 have happened. I failed in my duty and am no longer worthy to be
 called a servant. I must make it right. I must make it right, though
 it cost my life. My life what good is it to me now?
  
 They reached the site and brought the bier to the grave that had been
 prepared the day before. It was just a little way inside the forest,
 on the bank overlooking a shaded pool the pool in which Durwin had
 waded many times gathering his healing plants.
  
 Alinea had chosen the spot, remembering how he had loved to come here
 to wade, or just to sit and contemplate. Many times she had found him
 stretched out on the bank and sat with him as be talked about this or
 that herb, or traced his musing about the Most High.
  
 "Quentin should be here," said Bria, "and Germ. How they both loved
 Durwin. I wish they were here." She was quite over her trauma of the
 night before; in fact, she did not really remember it as having
 happened to her. It belonged to the dream, the bad dream she left
 behind with the new day.
  
 "They will come here soon, I am certain." Esme-watched her friend
 closely, looking for any sign of the malady that had stricken Bria.
  
 Bria caught her scrutiny and said, "I am much better now." She paused
 and then glanced toward the grave. "It is Just that it does not seem
 right without Quentin here."
  
 "He would be here if he could, you know that. Quentin's first duty is
 to find the Prince and bring him back safely. The King cannot rest
 until his son and heir is safe."
  
 "You are right." She paused and added, "But look at Toli. It tears at
 my heart to see him like this."
  
 Esme observed the slim, silent Jher and nodded sadly. It touched her
 deeply, too. She wished nothing more than to be able to go to Toli and
 comfort him; and she would have, but for fear of Toll's rejection.
  
 For his pan, Toli had told no one but Theido of Quentin's harsh words.
 Those had been his due, he had deserved them. He signaled to several
 of the lords and knights in attendance, and they moved to the bier.
 Laying hold of the long plank on which the body rested, they lifted it
 to their shoulders. Bria and Esme went to the litter too, and Alinea;
 they took up bouquets of flowers that had been placed on the funeral
 wain early that morning and followed the body to the grave.
  
 The men lowered the hermit's body into the hole dug in the rich black
 dirt. Sunlight filled me hole and fell on the pallid face. He seemed
 to be at rest, content. But he was not now the same
  
 Durwin they had known; be had changed. In death he appeared so much
 less himself that it was impossible for any of the mourners to look
 upon him now and say, "This is the man we knew in life."
  
 Durwin the true essence of the man they had loved was gone. He had
 left only a worthless husk behind.
  
 AUnea went to the graveside and knelt to place her flowers by him in
 the ground. Bria Joined her, and Esme. Toll stood silently over the
 open pit and watched, his eyes hard as polished stone.
  
 Others came to the grave, too, and paused briefly to pay final honor to
 the man. Here and there a tear sparkled in an eye, but there was no
 sobbing, no wailing, no evidence of unendurable grief common at so many
 funerals. All who had come knew that this in ferment was different;
 this was the burial of one of the Most High's trusted servants. And no
 one who looked upon the body in the grave felt that the man had ceased.
 The presence of his spirit was strong among them It would be wrong to
 regard the Holy Hermit ofPelgrin Forest as having fallen into shadowy
 nonexistence in the underworld of the gods. Even those who had never
 heard of the' Most High or his great and wonderful kingdom believed
 that Durwin had gone to a far different, far better place.
  
 Inwardly, all who saw him in his grave wished that their own deaths
 could be so: assured, dignified, and peaceful. And many believed from
 that day forth that Durwin was right about the Most High, for they too
 wanted to go where he had gone.
  
 When at last all had paid their respects to the body Princess Brianna
 and Princess Elena being the last to lay flowers in the grave Toli and
 five knights shoveled dirt into the hole and then. one by one, the
 mourners took up stones and placed them on the tomb.
  
 "Quentin would have wanted him buried in the Ring of the Kings,"
 observed Bria as she watched the stones being placed over the grave.
 "But this is better, more fitting."
  
 "I agree," replied Alinea. "Here among the trees he loved, where wild
 things lived .. . this is where he belongs."
  
 They turned then and made their way back to the castle, leaving any
 lingering sadness behind all except Toll. He stayed when everyone else
 had gone and stood unmoving over the grave for a
  
 / 815 I
  
 long time. Then at last he mounted Riv and left. But he did not ride
 back to Askelon Castle with the others.
  
 "Where is Toli?" asked Esme as she swiveled in the saddle looking for
 him. But he was not among those who followed.
  
 "Strange," said Bria. She craned her neck around too. "I do not see
 him anywhere. I thought he had come with the others."
  
 Esme turned her eyes back toward the grave site, but there was nothing
 to be seen. Toli had vanished.
  
 TWENTY
  
 "THE PRINCE ... here? By the gods' beards' It is a mistake. A terrible
 mistake. You have implicated the High Temple in your schemes-1 will
 not have it! Do you hear? I will not have it!"
  
 High Priest Pluell raved and tore at his hair as he paced back and
 forth in his chamber. Nimrood sat with hooded eyes, watching Pluell
 vent his anger, but saying nothing.
  
 The High Priest came to stand in front of the white-bearded old man,
 hands on hips. "The temple is in danger now because of you. This was
 not in our agreement. You never said anything about kidnapping. I
 will not have it!"
  
 At last Nimrood had enough. He stood, shot a withering glance at the
 High Priest, and stalked to the door.
  
 "Wait! What are you going to do? Where are you going?"
  
 "I am leaving. It is plain you have lost your nerve for our little
 diversion. I have no use for you. Good-bye."
  
 "No!" shouted Pluell. "You cannot do that! What about the Prince?
 What am I to do with him?"
  
 "Do anything you like with him. What do I care? He might make a
 serviceable acolyte, though I think his father might have something to
 say about that."
  
 "Stop! Come back. You cannot leave me like this. This was never my
 affair!"
  
 Nimrood stopped with his hand on the latch. "Never your affair? Ha!"
 He turned suddenly, his eyes darting flames. Pluell saw the change and
 dropped back, his mouth gaping. Nimrood advanced on him, seeming to
 grow in height.
  
 "Was it my idea?"
  
 "Who else? You are not suggesting it was mine
  
 "None other's. I merely indicated to you the danger to the temple if
 you did not act at once. It was your men who took the boy. It was
 their mistake. You are High Priest you are responsible
  
 "No! You tricfced me! I told you to ... to "
  
 "Exactly! You told me to do what needed to be done. We would not be
 here now if your stupid men had done their duty. I certainly never
 wanted it this way."
  
 "You must help me!" wailed Pluell. The shock and rage at what Nimrood
 had done to him subsided in the new horror of perhaps facing the
 outraged King alone. Why, the Dragon King would hew him limb from limb
 for the attack on his son! "I am sorry. I apologize. I was not
 thinking clearly. Stay and help me think what to do."
  
 Nimrood pulled on his beard. He appeared to be contemplating what
 should be done. Ah! he thought to himself. So easy! This pigeon is
 so deftly caught. He has no nerve, no backbone. He deserves his fate.
 But I can use him, therefore I wilt save him. Oh, this is working
 much better than I could have hoped.
  
 "Very well, I will stay. But you must stop whimpering and do as I say.
 I have a plan. A very simple plan. And if all goes well, in a short
 while you, my pigeon priest, will hold the King in the palm of your
 plump hand."
  
 Working outward from the place where the Prince was last seen, Theido
 and Ronsard and their search party of knights combed the forest,
 fanning out from that central point, probing deeper into the heart of
 Pelgrin. The knights rode the shaded pathways and dimly lit trails;
 Theido and Ronsard rode with them, meeting at prearranged spots to
 conferand share any news.
  
 There was precious little news to share. No one had turned up any sign
 of the abductors.
  
 "They appear to have vanished from the face of the earth," said Ronsard
 when they met for their final conference of the day.
  
 '"Weshould have seen some sign of tfacm by now/"Thddo gazed at the sky
 overhead. The clouds held an orange tint as me sun spun lower in the
 trees. "It wiD be dusk soon, and too dart to search any fun her
  
 Ronsard scanned the shy through the open patches in the leafy canopy
 overhead. "Blast their bones! By the god, I had hoped to strike their
 n^ today." He footed at Theidn, whose eyes held a faraway look. "What
 are you thinking?"
  
 "Nothing it was nothing."
  
 Ronsard shook his head. "I know that took of yours. Out with it,
 Theido."
  
 Theido nodded slowly. "I was thinking about what Toli said regarding
 Quentin's sword."
  
 "Now there is a puzzle. I wonder what is behind it."
  
 "Nothing good, you may be sure. I was thinking first now that it
 portends a greater evil than the Prince's disappearance, and that u bad
 enough."
  
 i Ronsard stared at his friend knowingly. "Aye, the Shining One ? not
 to be parted with lightly. I should have thought Quentin would fight
 to the death before giving it up."
  
 "You speak my thoughts to a word. And yet, when Toli met him in the
 road he did not speak of it at all. Why, I wonder." Theido glanced at
 the sky once more and said, "One problem at a time, eb? We will start
 again at daybreak."
  
 "Yes, tomorrow and that is the last good day. The signs, if they arc
 out there, are already disappearing."
  
 Theido turned his horse and made to move away. "Farewell, Ronsard. I
 will meet you tomorrow at the same time. If we have not found the
 trail by then, well Just pray that we find it"
  
 Ronsard raised his hand in farewell and watched the tall, lean knight
 ride away, back along the way he bad come. Theido is right, he
 thought. Something is at work here that bodes ill for all of us. What
 it is we shall find out soon enough, PU warrant.
  
 He sighed and moved off through the deepening shadows to
  
 The Sword and the flame meet with his men once more before he rolled
 himself in nil cloak to sleep. All around) the wood lay still and
 silent, as ifcomtemplating the coming of the night. Ronsard felt a
 chill creeping out with the shadows, and with it a sinister foreboding
 such as be had not felt in many years. He shuddered inwardly and rode
 on.
  
 "If you think it unwise. Mother, or if you would advise a better plan,
 please tell me." Bria watched her mother carefully, almost
 breathlessly. Hers had been a sudden thought, and she had gone
 immediately to her mother's apartments to snare her idea.
  
 "I do not say it is unwise," said AUnea slowly and with great
 concentration. "But I do have misgivings."
  
 Bria frowned at the word. But her mother continued. "However, I
 remember another time, years ago, when Durwin counseled the same plan.
 Then, too, it seemed a chancy enterprise. But it was the right course,
 as it turned out though even Durwin could never have guessed the
 outcome." She smiled at her daughter, and Bria saw the light in her
 green eyes. "It seems that the destinies of Askelon and Dekra are ever
 intertwined. Yes, my dear, go to Dekra. I will go too."
  
 "Mother, do you mean it? You would go
  
 "Why not? I am fit for a journey. And now that the King's road is
 complete to Malmarby the trip will be an easy one most of the way. But
 we must leave at once." She glanced at her daughter quickly. "What is
 wrong
  
 "You spoke of misgivings. What are they?"
  
 "Just that word may come to Askelon about the Prince. If you were not
 here to receive it...." Her voice trailed off.
  
 "I see. What should I do?"
  
 "That I cannot tell you. You must do what any mother does, you must
 listen to your heart."
  
 "Then I will go to Dekra and speak to the Elders there. We have often
 had reason to seek their wisdom, and their prayers may be most
 effective." Her eyes held her mother's. "I do so wish that Quentin
 were here, though."
  
 "Quentin will return soon. We will leave behind a letter telling him
 what we propose. He would wish to stay here in any case to aid the
 search."
  
 / 819 I
  
 "What about Brianna and Elena I fear leaving them."
  
 "They will come with us. Why not? They have begged to see Dekra often
 enough, and they will enjoy the trip. As it is, I think it would be
 unwise to leave them. We will take a coach and a bodyguard of knights,
 and travel the safer."
  
 Bria smiled, feeling better for having talked with her mother. "Yes,
 naturally you are right."
  
 "It will be better for us to have something to do. The waiting would
 weigh heavily on us, I fear. If word was long in coming... well, we
 will go. We must not think of anything but Germ's welfare. The Elders
 at Dekra will be able to help."
  
 Bria gazed at her mother admiringly, and then threw her arms around her
 neck in a hug. "Oh, thank you. I knew you would say the right
 thing."
  
 Alinea patted her daughter's back. "Poor Quentin. I pray that the
 waiting does not distress him overmuch. I would feel better if Toll
 were here. Perhaps he will soon return."
  
 "When should we leave?"
  
 "Just as soon as the horses and supplies can be made ready."
  
 "Tomorrow morning, then. We will rest better in our own beds tonight,
 and leave at first light."
  
 Alinea nodded her assent. Bria bent and kissed her mother and then
 hurried away, her mind already filled with dozens of details that would
 require attention before they could leave. Alinea watched her go,
 thinking back on a time when she had planned the same journey. She
 smiled, nodded, and went back to her prayers.
  
 TWENTY-ONE
  
 QUENTIN GAVE Blazer his head and let the animal take them home. The
 road was easy to follow, and the horse knew the way back to Askelon.
 Quentin rode without knowing or caring where they went, and Blazer
 unerringly led them homeward,
  
 As the way through Pelgrin merged green and leafy with the cool blue
 shadows, Quentin, benumbed from lack of sleep, felt himself drifting
 back to the strange meeting on the island.
  
 That he had been specifically summoned to the Holy Island he had no
 doubt. By whatever subtle magic, he was drawn to the lake and there
 waiting when the boat arrived for him to take him to the ring of
 stones. Enchantment, surely. But for what purpose?
  
 Quentin could not say. As for the man the mysterious stranger who
 spoke with him, knew him, called him by name who was he? In some
 inexplicable way he felt he knew that man, had known him for a long
 time, even though he had never met him before that hour.
  
 Or had he?
  
 It was as if a friend had gone on a long Journey to a country far away
 and returned after many years vastly changed, though still basically
 the same person underneath, and it was the change wrought in this man
 that shielded his identity.
  
 "Call me your friend," the man had said, "for friend I am." I am in
 need of a friend, thought Quentin. Sorely in need.
  
 He felt a loneliness take hold of him he had not felt in many years not
 since as a young acolyte in the High Temple had he experienced the same
 crushing weight of utter aloneness. In his mind he traveled back to
 that time, and once again he was that gangly young boy clinging
 frightened to the mane of the mighty warhorse Balder, setting out on an
 errand which could not possibly succeed, but going anyway.
  
 / 821 I
  
 Such hope, such blindness.
  
 Oh. to be that trusting boy again, thought Quentin. He felt the
 weight of years upon him, and tasted the bitter-sweet longing for that
 simpler, better time. He let himself drift off on waves of longing and
 loneliness.
  
 When he came out of his reflections, he saw that the sun was lowering
 over the road, and also that he was leaving the forest. Upon returning
 from the island he had found Blazer waiting for him on the shore. He
 had beached the ox-hide boat and ridden away, not stopping all day.
 Now he felt the ache of the road seize him in an iron grip. His head
 throbbed.
  
 He rode out of the forest and down a slight hill into a broad valley.
 Here in this valley were the farms of peasants and small landowners
 those who sold their produce in the market at Askelon. Just a little
 ahead, Quentin saw the watt led house of a farmer, watched the man
 leading his team of oxen in from the field and his wife at the well
 dipping water, and decided to stop for a moment to wash the dust of the
 road from his throat and to rest his horse. But only for a moment,
 because he wanted to be in Askelon by nightfall.
  
 "Ho there!" called Quentin as he rode into the yard scratched bare by
 clucking chickens. "Good day to you!" He sat and waited for the
 farmer to show himself.
  
 A face appeared at a dark window just a fleeting glimpse and then it
 was gone. A moment later the farmer came around the side of the house,
 carrying a two-pronged wooden pitchfork in his hand.
  
 He stared at Quentin warily, but with a certain respect. "G'day to
 *ee, sir." said the farmer. His weather-browned face scrutinized the
 visitor frankly. If there was a trace of distrust, it was only the
 normal, benign distrust all simple people held for strangers who were
 obviously above them. Quentin smiled at the farmer and said, "It is a
 hot day for traveling, but good for the crops."
  
 The farmer squinted his eyes up to the sky and seemed to lose himself
 among the clouds scudding swiftly toward the horizon. At length he
 rolled an eye back to Quentin and said, "Trav*Iins oft a thristy
 bi'ness."
  
 "Now that you mention it," replied Quentin,<1! would like a drink of
 water."
  
 The Sword and tfu Flaw
  
 "Help 'esclf." said the farmer, nodding toward the welt Quentin slowly
 dismounted and walked to the well, feeling every jounce of the road in
 each stiff step. He settled himself on the edge of the stonework and
 took up the dipping gourd. He played out the braided cord, filled the
 gourd, and then took the brimming vessel to his horse.
  
 Blazer, his shining white coat now dusty brown-gray, plunged his broad
 muzzle into the water and drank deeply. As Quentin held the gourd he
 noticed a movement in the doorway of the house nearby. The farmer's
 wife joined her husband, and Quentin feU under her sharp scrutiny.
 There was a mumble of whispered words behind him. He wondered what the
 woman was saying to her husband. When he turned around he understood,
 for be saw a look of awe blossom on their ruddy features the look that
 accompanied him whenever he made his way in public. It reminded him
 that he was the Dragon King.
  
 He looked at them and they bowed low, both of them, awkward and
 self-conscious. "Rise, my friends," he said softly.
  
 "I I did not know as 'twas *ce. Sire,*' stammered the farmer'I be yer
 *umble servant."
  
 Quentin patted his dusty clothes. "How could you know, good man?"
 Little puff's of dust accompanied each pat. "I look more a highwayman
 than a King."
  
 The farmer's raw-boned wife nudged her man with an elbow, and he jumped
 forward at once and took the gourd. " "Low me,
  
 Sire."
  
 Quentin was about to protest, but thought better of it and allowed the
 man his pleasure, knowing that for years to come the farmer would tell
 his friends and relatives of the day he had watered the King's horse.
  
 Sitting on the edge of the well once more, Quentin turned his eyes to
 the house and noted its rude construction. Though it was a most simple
 structure, made from the cheapest materials mud daubed over woven
 sticks on a timber frame and topped with a roof of thatch it was clean,
 and all was orderly in the yard. It was identical to any number of
 households that stretched from one end of Mensandor to the other from
 Wildcrby to Woodsend.
  
 / 823 I
  
 Out of the comer of his eye he saw a quick flick of a shadow as it
 darted and disappeared around the comer of the house. He watched the
 spot for a moment and was rewarded by seeing a pair of wide dark eyes
 and a pale forehead poke around the edge of the house once more.
  
 Quentin smiled and raised his hand, beckoning to the owner of those
 eyes to come out and join him. Presently, a grubby young boy stepped
 hesitantly around the comer, keeping his back pressed against the
 house, inching toward the stranger with the shyness of a wild creature
 of the forest. The dark-eyed youngster was dressed in a long,
 hand-me-down tunic re sewn for him, no doubt, from one of his father's.
 The edges of this garment were frazzled and frayed, and the threads
 blew in the breeze like tassels. He stared at the newcomer with open
 curiosity and admiration as much for the great warhorse drinking from
 the gourd his father held as for the horse's rider.
  
 "Come here, boy."
  
 The tad's mother rushed over to him and wiped his face with her dirty
 apron, rubbing spittle on his cheeks and chin. When the youth was
 presentable, she pushed him forward. The boy resisted, bashful before
 the King.
  
 Quentin nodded and smiled. The boy was a little older than Prince
 Gerin, and though of more slender build be had the same unruly dark
 brown hair.
  
 "It is the King!" his mother whispered harshly in his ear. "Show yer
 manners!"
  
 Whether the youth understood who it was that waited for him or not, in
 his eyes it did not greatly matter. Anyone who rode a steed such as
 the one that stood in the yard before him qualified as royalty in his
 young opinion.
  
 His mother prodded him to stand before Quentin, where he gazed at his
 unshod feet and drew lines in the dirt with his toe. Quentin put his
 hands on his slim shoulders. "What is your name, lad?"
  
 The answer was some moments in coming. "Penny, Sire." The voice was
 scarcely audible.
  
 "Renny , I have a boy just like you," said Quentin. A knife
  
 The Sword and th Flame diced at his heart with the words, for again he
 remembered that his on was gone. "His name is Gerin," he continued,
 forcing a smile, "and he is about your age."
  
 "Docs he have a horse?" asked Renny.
  
 "No," replied Quentin. It was true, for although Gerin could well
 choose any horse in the Ring's stable to ride, he did not have one of
 his own. "But he likes to ride.  Do you like to ride?"
  
 The youngster's face suddenly saddened. "I I've ne're been on a horse.
 Sire." The awful truth was out and the boy felt better for it, for he
 brightened instantly and announced, "But when I get big I'll have a
 horse an' I'll be a knight!"
  
 Quentin chuckled at the certainty in the young voice. "I am sure you
 shall!" he agreed, and then added: "would you like to ride a horse?"
  
 The dark eyes went wide and rolled toward the nearest parent for
 approval. *' Tis all 'ee*s ever wanted t'do," said the farmer.
 ""TisaU'ee talks of."
  
 "Then today you shall have your wish, brave sir!" said Quentin. He
 led the youngster by the hand over to where Blazer stood quietly. The
 horse seemed to grow in size as they approached, and Quentin felt
 Penny's hand grip his tightly. "This one is a well trained mount. He
 will not harm his rider."
  
 With that assurance, Quentin picked the boy up and put him in the
 saddle. The boy wore a dazed expression, unable to fathom his
 immediate good fortune or sort out the innumerable sensations assailing
 him in this miraculous instant.
  
 The King handed him the reins and placed them just so in his bands.
 Then, when Renny was situated, Quentin took Blazer's bridle and began
 leading him around the yard. The farmer and his wife stood together
 clutching each other, beaming happily as they watched their son ride
 the King's own stallion. ^
  
 Quentin, too, felt their joy, and he laughed out loud. It felt good to
 laugh, and so easy. He had begun to think he would never laugh
 again.
  
 Renny, for his part, celebrated the occasion with all the solemn pomp
 his young frame could muster. He sat rigid in the saddle, his back
 straight as any lance, eyes level, shoulders square: the very r i 825
 /
  
 picture of a knight riding into battle, full of courage, the victory
 sure, the foe all but vanquished.
  
 Then Queotin showed the boy bow to pull the reins to one side or the
 other to make the horse turn, how to make him stop and go. Renny took
 in this information gravely, studiously.
  
 "Do you think you can remember all that?"
  
 "Aye." nodded the boy.

  
 "Then he is yours to lead. Ride him, young master." Quendn stepped
 away from the horse, and Renny threw a half-worried, talfexultant look
 to his parents, kicked his heels gently into Blazer's flanks, lifted
 the reins, and began to ride the horse around the yard.
  
 Blazer, champion of battle, high-spirited and fleet as the wind over
 the plain, behaved as docilely as any plow horse. He stepped lightly
 around the yard, circling the three spectators, tossing his head and
 snorting now and then, to the delight of all.
  
 When the ride was over at last. Blazer came to stand before his
 master. Before Quentin could reach up a hand, Renny threw his leg over
 the pommel and slid from the saddle as expertly as any knight. He wore
 a look of dazzled triumph that seemed to say, I have ridden the King's
 horse! I will be a knight!
  
 "Well done, lad!" shouted Quentin, dapping Ac boy on the back. "Well
 done!"
  
 Penny's parents ran forward to embrace him, as pleased for his good
 fortune as if it had been their own dream's fulfillment. Quentin was
 moved by this spectacle of love between the members of this simple
 family. His heart went out to them.
  
 "Thank *ee. Sire," said the farmer's wife. She grabbed his hand and
 kissed it.
  
 "This be a proud day. Sire," crowed the farmer. There were tears of
 joy sparkling at the corners of his eye. "Me son astride the King's
 charger, .. ." There were no more words to describe the pride he
 felt.
  
 "Please, it is but a little thing," replied Quentin. **I was happy to
 do it."
  
 "You must stay t* supper, m' lord," said the woman. Then she blinked
 in amazement, realizing what she had said. She had just invited the
 King to supper! In her kitchen! Oh, my!
  
 Quentin began to make his apology, but stopped and turned toward the
 road. The shadows of evening were stretching across the land. The sun
 had grown into a great blazing red fireball as it touched the far
 horizon. He was tired, and the thought of climbing back into the
 saddle and riding on to Askelon seemed repugnant at the moment.
  
 "Madame," said Quentin, as he would address any noble's wife, "I would
 be honored to partake of an evening meal with you."
  
 At once her eyes grew round and her jaw dropped, she turned to look at
 her husband, who merely peered back at her with the same expression of
 absolute astonishment. Then she gathered her skirts and dashed for the
 house to begin preparing the meal. Quentin smiled to see her go.
  
 "M'lord," said the farmer when she had gone," 'low me t* look after yer
 steed. "Ee must be hungry after a long day's travlin'."
  
 "Thank you, that would be most kind."
  
 The farmer led Blazer away to the small barn set alongside the house at
 the back. The horse, sensing feed was close, picked up his hooves and
 fairly pranced away. Little Penny watched him go, his eyes still
 sparkling like stars. He had relived his momentous ride a hundred
 times already in his mind.
  
 Quentin sat back on the edge of the well, folding his arms across his
 chest. Perhaps he should not have accepted the invitation, maybe he
 should not delay on the road. Ah, but he could not go back on his
 acceptance now. Furthermore, he could leave before dawn and be in
 Askelon early in the morning, and he could use the rest. Here,
 perhaps, he could forget his troubles for an hour, eat and sleep,
 forget.
  
 "Why are you sad?" chirped a young voice beside him.
  
 Quentin stirred himself and looked up to see Penny studying him
 carefully. "I was just thinking, lad."
  
 "Thinking about your own little boy? He's the Prince!" Renny informed
 him.
  
 "I suppose I was. Yes, he is the Prince "
  
 "And you're out searching for him," said Renny, finishing his thought.
 "Bad men took him away, and we must all keep our eyes an' ears open
 so's to see or hear 'bout him."
  
 Quentin smiled sadly. Bad news does fly with eagle's wings, he
 thought. Yes, they all know what has happened. All ofMensandor would
 know by now. His grief was not as private as he supposed. Nothing
 about him was private anymore. The Dragon King's life was gossip,
 legend, and song to them.
  
 What would they all think when they learned he had lost the flaming
 sword, Zhaligkeer, the Shining One, symbol of his authority and divine
 appointment? What would they say of him then?
  
 "Don'tee worry. Sire," said the boy. ""Ee'U find the Princel "Ee're
 the Dragon King! "Ee can do anything!"
  
 "Yes," replied Quentin, ruffling the boy's dark hair absently, "we'll
 find him." Please, let us find him!
  
 The farmer returned from tending to Blazer and came to stand before the
 King, not daring to break in on his thoughts by speaking. He just stood
 there silently and waited. There came a call from the house and when
 Quentin did not stir, the farmer announced, "M* lord, supper's
 set'n."
  
 The evening sky glimmered with the sunset; the soft white clouds were
 tinted pink and orange. Crickets sang in the grass at the edge of the
 road, and swallows skipped and darted in the blue air.
  
 The world seemed poised on a fine silken thread, perfectly balanced
 between night and day. Quentin sighed and stood. The thread snapped,
 and the world rolled on toward night.
  
 They walked quietly to the house, dipped their hands into abasin
 sitting on a stool near the door, and then went in to their supper.
  
 TWENTY-TWO
  
 DEEP w Pelgrin's green heart, Toli paused beside a spring which
 trickled out from a hillock of white stone into a crystalline pool. He
 slid from the saddle and led Riv to drink, then knelt himself and
 cupped water to his Ups. The westering sun tinted the sky with evening
 colors of dusty gold and pale violet, flaming the woodland greens and
 burnishing the boles of towering chestnut and hawthorn with a gleam
 like bronze.
  
 Soon night would cover the forest with her dark wing, and he would have
 to find a sheltered hollow or a dry thicket for the night But something
 drew him on, tugged at him gently, urging him to go just a little
 further.
  
 Do not stop, it whispered in the boughs around him as the evening
 breezes stirred the green-gold leaves. Ride on.
  
 So, after a last drink from the pool, Toli heaved himself back into the
 saddle and pushed on, sending his senses ahead of him to sift the air
 for a clue a sound, a flicker of color, a scent borne on the air
 anything that would tell him what bad pricked his instincts and was
 drawing him forward.
  
 It has been too long since I was in the wild, he reflected. My skills
 have grown dulL Now, when I need them most, how will I find the
 Prince?
  
 He rode along, bending his trail here and there through the wood,
 straining into the gathering twilight. He stopped, held his breath ...
 what was that?
  
 Nothing. He lifted his hands to send Riv forward once more, than
 hesitated.
  
 There it was again: a soft chirrup, faint as the whirr of insect
  
 / 829 f wings on the breeze. Toli waited for it to come again, and
 when it did he knew beyond all doubt what it was.
  
 How long has it been since I have heard that sound? he wondered.
 Then, placing his hand at the side of his mouth, he answered the call
 with his own not as softly or skillfully done, but remarkably similar.
 He repeated the call once, twice, and climbed down from the saddle to
 wait, his heart thumping against his ribs.
  
 Through a stand of slim young beeches, stepping noiselessly among the
 low-hanging branches they came: three Jher kinsmen dressed in skins and
 wearing deer hide pouches at their waists. They hesitated when they saw
 Toli, but he made no move toward them, so the forest dwellers
 advanced.
  
 "Calitha teo he alla ri noah said Toli when they had come as close as
 they would. In his native tongue it meant, "You have come far south
 this leaf time
  
 "The deer," the foremost Jher replied in the lilting speech of his
 people. "It has been dry in the north forest." He paused and regarded
 Toli shrewdly. "I am Yona."
  
 "I am Toli."
  
 The three Jher glanced among themselves, excitement mirrored in their
 deep brown liquid eyes. "Yes," said the leader. "We know. We have
 been watching you and recognized you. Everyone knows of Toli."
  
 "How many are with you?" asked Toli.
  
 "Forty men and their women and children," Yona replied. "It is very
 dry in the north."
  
 "Here in the south," put in one of the others, "the deer are fat and
 run slow. Three tribes arc with us."
  
 "Have you room for one more before your fire this night?"
  
 The three looked at each other, smiled at one another with huge, toothy
 grins, and hooted in amazement at their good fortune. T,they all but
 stumbled over themselves to be the first to lead him back to the Jher
 camp.
  
 The campfires were lit, and vension roasted on spits over the flames,
 wafting a tangy scent among the trees and dome-shaped dwellings made of
 deer hide bark, and twigs. Toli bad not encountered another of his
 race for many years, and he walked into the
  
 Jher encampment as one walking back into his own past. Nothing had
 changed. Every detail of life for the nomadic forest people remained
 the same the deerskin clothing, the meals prepared over open fires, the
 sparkling dark eyes watching everywhere, the timid children clutching
 their mothers' legs, the old men squatting before the flames
 instructing the young boys in wood lore all was exactly as he
 remembered it, the same as it had always been.
  
 His guides brought him to stand in the center of the camp- A good
 number of Jher had already assembled to sec the stranger, and the sight
 of this Jher prince dressed in the fine clothing of the lightskinned
 men produced murmurs and hoots and shy pointing as they discussed him.
 For here was one of their own some knew who he was and told the others
 yet changed almost beyond recognition as a Jher. None of them had ever
 seen such a transformation.
  
 In a moment there came a stirring at the outer fringes of the ring of
 onlookers, and a pathway formed through which passed a shrunken old
 man. He carried a long staff made from an ash sapling on which were
 affixed the antlers of a buck. This ancient one leaned heavily upon
 the staff and tottered forward to stand before the visitor. At his
 appearance all the other Jher became silent as they waited to see what
 their leader would do.
  
 For his part. Toll waited to be received by the venerated leader,
 hands held loosely at his sides, eyes lowered as a sign of respect.
  
 The old man came near and stood before Toli, drawing himself up to full
 height, gazing at him with quick, sharp eyes.  "Toli, my son," he said
 at last, using the polite form of address of an older man to a younger,
 "I knew you would come to us again."
  
 Toll's eyes went wide with the realization of who it was that stood
 before him. "Hoet?** He recovered himself and said, "It is good to see
 you, my father."
  
 With that the old man threw down his staff, put his arms around Toli,
 and hugged him to his breast. At that moment all the other Jher, who
 had been watching silently, burst forth and began bugging Toli,
 gripping his hands and arms, patting his head and back in a great show
 of affection. Toli, the hero of many of their most often told and
 highly regarded tales and legends, had come home. Tonight would be a
 celebration.
  
 A huge fire was made in the center of the village and deerskin
  
 / 831 I
  
 and woven grass mats unrolled and placed around the perimeter, and upon
 each mat a large wooden bowl filled with fruit. Toli and Hoet were led
 to the place of honor to squat on their mat while the choicest pieces
 of roast meat were passed to them. The other Jher all found places
 around the fire. Little children scampered through the village
 whooping and calling bird sounds to impress the royal visitor.
  
 Hoet hunched beside his guest and gazed at him thoughtfully, patting
 his arm or knee from time to time as if to reassure himself that it was
 true after all, that Toli had returned.
  
 When hunger had been appeased, all eyes turned toward Toli and Hoet,
 and a chant began, slowly and quietly at first, but building rapidly to
 a crescendo of Jher voices. "Thia se cia they called. "We want a
 storyl Tell us a story!"
  
 As the honored guest who had been fed and pampered with ceremonious
 attention, it was Toll's turn to repay the favor by telling his people
 a story. He stood and raised his hands above his head for silence, in
 the tradition of the best storytellers.
  
 But before he could begin, Hoet stood too and laid a hand on Toll's
 shoulder saying, "I claim the first story in honor of our brother."
  
 The Jher gathered around the shining fire, nodded, and whooped their
 agreement. Toli sat down as Hoet raised his hands and began to speak.
 "One day long ago, in snow time when all the forest sleeps in white
 blankets and the cold makes the deer's coat shaggy and warm, men of the
 white race came to the forest on horses. They ran wildly among the
 trees, and noisily, for the deer fled from the sound of their passing
 and we heard them from far away, for they had no forest feet.
  
 "They came near our wintering place, though they did not know this. We
 watched them from afar, and one night encircled them as they sat before
 their crude fire." Here all the listeners hooted good-naruredly at the
 careless white travelers. "When Whinoek's fire once more filled the
 earth with light, we approached these white men and one of them
 attempted to speak our tongue Hoet laughed and all the others
 laughed, too. Though they had all heard this story countless times,
 all strained after every word as if it were uttered for the first
 time.
  
 "This one, Bushface, told us of grave danger in the forest. The vile
 Shoth pursued them with thirsty knives and hunting birds with poison in
 their talons. He asked for help. In this, Bushface showed much
 wisdom, for surely the white men would have sunk down to their
 death steep before one more night had passed."
  
 At this all the Jber clucked their tongues; some smacked the eanh with
 their hands at the mention of their hated enemy's name. "Should we help
 them? I asked myself. The answer was not quickly coming it circled
 around me like a young deer at a forest pool. For they were white men,
 the same who cut down trees and kill the deer in numbers and make stone
 dwellings on the earth. But the Shoth are our enemy, as they are the
 enemy of all civilized people. So I decided to help them, for Bushface
 was a man with much power in him, and there was with him a woman, a
 kelniki>' tSse word meant wife of the leader "whose hair shone like the
 dancing fire. I did not wish the evil Shoth to have such fine hair
 hanging from their spears. And with them also was a young boy in whose
 eyes I saw the look of one who is chosen for greatness. I knew I must
 help them.
  
 But how?"
  
 Toli listened to the recital of the events that had changed his life
 forever, and it seemed that he was once again the young Jher sitting
 before the fire as he had so many times, listening to the tales of his
 elders and the deeds of heroes of his race. He remembered back over
 the years to the day when the white men had come into their winter
 camp; they looked cold and frightened and extremely awkward in his
 young eyes.
  
 But the strangers had horses. Qh, how he had wanted to ride a horse!
 He could still feel the thrill of seeing the animals for the first time
 up close so beautiful, so graceful they were, and strong. In his
 boyish heart he vowed he would give anything to ride one of those
 horses. So when Hoet's gaze fell on him he had leaped quick as a fawn
 to present himself for the task of leading the white men through the
 forest to the Wall of Stone.
  
 Hoel had sent him then, and the rest had become legend among the people
 of the forest: Bushface he had come to know as Durwin, Hawknose became
 his friend Theido, Firehair was the beautiful Alinea, and Kenta, the
 boy with glory on him, he chose as his master, Quentin, now become the
 Dragon King.
  
 / 833 I
  
 In the eyes of his kinsmen, Toli had acceded to the highest of honors
 serving a man of renown. For though he was of the white race, Quentin
 was also the leader of his people and that, for the Jher, gave Toli the
 highest acclaim; there was no higher position a Jber could aspire to
 than to fulfill the role of servant to a great leader.
  
 "... And so he has returned this night to us," Hoet was saying, "to his
 own people once again. The glory of his deeds casts Whinoek's favor
 upon all of us, and we are accounted worthy." The old chieftain turned
 proudly to his guest.
  
 If they only knew how I have failed, Toli thought. Would they still
 receive me with celebration and feasting? No, they would fed disgrace
 and shun me; my name would be no longer spoken among them. I would be
 forgotten.
  
 When Toli turned again to those before him, he found all eyes on him.
 The fire crackled and the sparks leapt high into the night sky,
 glittering in all the black eyes watching him expectantly. They were
 waiting for him to speak now. Hoet had given him the honor of speaking
 last; his would be the story of Jher tribesmen carried with them to
 their sleep, an honor ordinarily reserved for the oldest and wisest
 among them, Hoet himself.
  
 He stood slowly, unable to put his feelings that moment into words.
 What can I tell them? he wondered. What could I say to them that they
 could possibly understand?
  
 The dark eyes watched him, a murmur arose and made its way around the
 ring. Will he speak? What will he say? Why does he wait? Speak,
 great one!
  
 The murmur became a voice ringing in his ears: Tell them! it cried.
 Tell them how you have failed!
  
 Now an awkward silence spread through the waiting crowd. Toli felt
 their eyes up on him. "I .. ." he began, then faltered. "I cannot."
 He walked away from the circle of friends. The only sound to be heard
 was the fluttering of the fire as he withdrew into the darkness.
  
 TWENTY-THREE
  
 "You DID not think that I would let you leave roe behind?" Esme's eyes
 glittered in the candlelight. Outside, the sky lightened in the east
 to a dull gray, becoming pearl-like pink near the horizon where the sun
 would rise.
  
 Bria smiled, the light softening her features. "In truth, Esme, I did
 not think you would care to come with me. It is a long journey to
 Dekra, and an uncertain errand at that. It is something I fed I must
 do."
  
 "And you must do it alone?"
  
 "No, my mother will go with me."

  
 "And I will go with you, too. Chloe has already packed a few things
 for me, and as you see" she indicated her riding clothes "I am ready to
 go,"
  
 Bria laughed and hugged her friend. "Then you shall come along, by all
 means. Forgive me. I should have invited you. I merely thought
 that... Well, we will go together, and I will welcome the company."
  
 Esme smiled too. "It will make me feel useful to you. And I must
 admit that I have always wondered about this mysterious city of Dekra.
 There are many strange stories about it is it really enchanted?"
  
 "Yes, but not the way you mean. Its enchantment grows from the love of
 its citizens. It is, as you shall see, a most remarkable place."
  
 "You have been there many times?" Esme fell to the task of helping
 Bria ready herself for the journey,
  
 "Not many, but a few times. Quentin and I would go there occasionally
 before the children were born. The last time was for Yeseph's funeral,
 a few years ago. Quentin talked about going back there to stay, but
 after Yescph died he never spoke of it again. He is King, and the King
 must remain on his throne in Askelon." She shrugged, and Esme finished
 tying the points at her sleeves. "Now then, let us go wake the
 girls."
  
 The little Princesses were already awake and chattering like squirrels
 when the two women entered the bedroom. Chloe was there, along with
 their own nurse, packing their clothes into carved chests for the
 journey. When they saw their mother, they Jumped up and flitted across
 the floor to embrace her.
  
 "Mother, oh. Mother! Is it true? Can we really go with you?" they
 begged. "We will be good, and we will be quiet. We promise it. Oh,
 please?"
  
 Bria smiled and kissed them both, then knelt down to speak to them.
 "Yes, my darlings. You arc coming with me. But I want you to
 remember that this is a long Journey, and you will get very tired. You
 must do as I say, for we will travel quickly."
  
 "Are we to ride horses too?" asked Brianna.
  
 "Yes, horses?" echoed Elena.
  
 "You will ride in a coach with Grandmother. She will need someone to
 keep her company on the way."
  
 "Is Daddy going, too?"
  
 "No," Bria sighed. "The King is searching for Germ and will not come
 with us. Hurry now, and finish dressing this stone floor is cold on
 your feet! We will wail for you in the yard. Chloe will bring you out
 when you are ready. Now run along."
  
 Both girls scampered away to finish dressing. The two women crept back
 into the sUent corridors of Askelon Castle and made their way down to
 the hall where a simple breakfast had been laid for them. There Alinea
 was waiting, her trim form clothed in summer green an embroidered tunic
 over trousers and tall riding boots. An image flashed into Bria's mind
 other mother standing just so, telling her good-bye. For a moment she
 imagined this had all happened before just this way.
  
 "Good morning. Mother." The Queen paused, then asked, "Have I ever
 seen you wear these clothes before?" She examined them carefully.
  
 "Yes," Alinea laughed, "I believe you have. But I am amazed that you
 would remember."
  
 The it came to her. "How could I ever forget? You were going off to
 rescue Father dressed like that. You had to sneak out of your own
 castle."
  
 "I thought I would just try them on and .. . well, they fit, so here I
 am. Do you approve?"
  
 "How could I disapprove?" Bria hugged her mother, and then they all
 sat down to eat before leaving. They spoke little, each occupied with
 her own thoughts of the impending journey. When they finished eating,
 they hurried out into the ward yard where the horses and coach were
 already waiting for them; the coachman was tying the last bundle of
 provisions to the frame behind the coach. "Wilkins!" said Bria when
 she recognized the man. "My Lady," he bowed, "when Lady Esme told me of
 your wish to go to Dekra, I thought it best to travel with you." "If
 you would rather have another .. ." added Esme. "No, it is a fine
 idea. I commend it and thank you both." "I am at your service."
 Wilkins bowed again and touched the hilt of his sword. Bria was once
 again reminded that theirs was not a pleasure outing.
  
 From across the yard the warder, a man with short gray hair and gray
 eyes, whose sinews seemed made of whipcord, approached. "My Lady, I am
 against this enterprise." He spoke directly, not wasting any words.
  
 Bria smiled. "I know, Hagin, but there is no worry." "No worry? Your
 own son kidnapped, and you say no worry?" The man gave her a look of
 frank disapproval" The King will have my hide stretched and nailed on
 yonder drawbridge if I let you go."
  
 "We will come to no harm," insisted Bria- "We travel with an escort of
 knights, and the King's roads are safe enough." "Then I shall go too,"
 he announced. "No, I would rather have you here to await the King's
 return." The warder grumbled but held his tongue and said no more. Bria
 and Esme were helped into the saddle, Alinea into the coach, and the
 horses were led out through the yard toward the gatehouse where two
 knights, mounted and ready, were waiting There they paused, and Chloe
 and the Princesses came running out to scramble into the coach. A few
 of the castle servants had gathered to wish the travelers a speedy and
 safe journey; the little girls waved and threw kisses to all until they
 entered the dark tunnel of the gatehouse and were cut off from sight.
  
 Hagin the warder, nephew of Trenn, stood rooted to the spot until they
 had disappeared, then shook his bead and stumped off.
  
 Askelon lay but two leagues away. With a little speed the tinker would
 arrive at midday, find himself a meal, ani begin making his rounds.
 There were certain customers he visited every time he came to town.
 Milcher at the Gray Goose Inn, for example; he always needed a new pot,
 or a pan repaired, and always included supper too- Yes, he was one of
 the best customers, and there were others:
  
 the butchers wife, the chandler's sister, the baker, and the weaver.
  
 In fact, all the merchants needed his services ne time or another.
 Even the King's kitchen staff occasionally bought his wares.
  
 "A wee bit further. Old Tip," Pym told his dog, "and we 'uns'U stop a
 little in Askelon. What say ye there? Eh?  A nice grizzle bone fer
 ye. Tipper. A hot pasty ferme ah, innkeeper's wife makes the best
 meat pies in all Mensandor. There's a fact. Tip. The best. Makes me
 mouth water to think on 't." Tip took all this in with a benign,
 thoughtful expression and wagged her tail with appropriate enthusiasm,
 and they ambled down the road, clinking and clattering as they went.
 As they came within sight of Askelon Castle, they heard the sound of
 hooves drumming along the road behind them. Pym turned around, stepped
 to the side of the road, and waited for the rider to pass. In an
 instant the white charger and its regal rider swept past them.
  
 Pym raised his hand in greeting, and the intent rider dipped his head
 in acknowledgment as he rode on by. The tinker followed the horseman
 into the distance with his eyes and continued on his way.
  
 "Comin' a day. Tip, an' we 'uns'U ride, too! A wagon an' a sharping
 stone an' treadle-foot that's fer we!" He nodded slyly to this dog.
 "We 'uns've found our fortune!"
  
 He gazed after the rider disappearing into the distance. "But ye know,
 I think that 'un was the King that passed by jest now. I couldn't say
 fera certain, but mighl'a been. Looked a King t' me. Would ye not
 say. Tipper? Eh? Quite right, quite right. Looked a King. Maybe
 'twas the King."
  
 The Sward and the Flam
  
 Pym glanced at his black dog sadly. "The gods be with him, poor King.
 Terrible thing. Terrible. His son snatched off like that. A terrible
 thing deed most foul, that. Didn't I say it. Tip? A deed most foul."
 The tinker raised his voice to a shout and called after the rider, now
 just a speck in the road far away, "The gods be with ye. Sire!"
  
 He squinted up an eye toward the sun, gauging the time of day. The
 morning shone fair and bright, the sky high and wide and blue. Across
 the green fields farmers worked their land, coaxing grain out of the
 soil. Occasionally the tinker would wave to one, who would answer his
 greeting likewise.
  
 Ahead the town drew slowly closer, and the sun rose higher. "Tipper, we
 'uns'd best stir our bones or be too late to get our meal. Come along,
 now
  
 He put his head down, hoisted the straps of his baggage, and picked up
 his pace, they clanged and rattled down the road to Askelon.
  
 "You cannot be serious," said the High Priest. He stared at the old
 man as if unable to comprehend the words just spoken.
  
 "I assure you I am." The cold eyes glared, the tongue poked snakelike
 between the thin scars of Ups.
  
 "But why? Why risk discovery now? It is not wise."
  
 "Not wise? You dare to presume wisdom beyond Nimrood's?" There was
 poison in the voice, and echoes of cracking thunder.
  
 High Priest Pluell paled and threw up his hands. "Oh, no! It is not
 that. Never." He hurried to explain. "It is just that I thought that
 is ... we are safe here. We have time now to think this through, plan
 our course of action. We must move very carefully, you would agree."
  
 "I have decided," said Nimrood flatly. "There is nothing more to
 discuss. I will tell you what to do; I will make all the decisions
 from now on.
  
 "You have nothing to fear if you do your part and see to it that your
 stupid priests do theirs. Leave all else to me." The old wizard
 glared at the priest with malevolent glee. "You want to humble that
 usurper King, do you not? Ah, yes. I can see it on your face. You
 want him and his God Most High brought low before all Mensan
  
 / 839 I
  
 dor. Then you will be acknowledged and the power of the High Temple
 increased."
  
 The High Priest could not resist a smile at the prospect. "Well, then,
 do nothing do you hear? Wait for me. I will return shortly, and we
 can begin."
  
 Pluell watched the old man fearing him, loathing him, but his desire to
 flaunt his power over the throne crushed any resistance he might offer
 to Nimrood. Yes, to humble the proud King, to reassert the claims of
 the temple over the affairs of the realm that was worth the price of
 putting up with the troublesome old long-beard Nimrood. It was worth
 the risk.
  
 "Very well," said the High Priest. "It shall be as you say." Nimrood
 nodded and winked and smiled his gruesome smile. "That is good," my
 pet. Do as I say and all will be well. Now I go."
  
 The High Priest sat in his handsome chair and listened to the tap of
 Nimrood's footsteps receding into the temple. When it is done, I will
 cast the old vulture out, he thought. I have but to contend with him a
 little longer.
  
 TWENTY-FOUR
  
 BLAZER'S HOOVES sounded dull thunder over the great planks of the
 drawbridge, his iron shoes struck sparks from the stone flagging of the
 gatehouse road. Shouts of "The King is coming! Open the gates! The
 King is here!" preceded him, and startled gatekeepers leaped into
 action,
  
 Horse and rider jolted to a slop in the inner ward yard. Squires
 dashed up to take the King's well-lathered mount. Without a word
 Quentin went straight into the castle, through the banquet hall filled
 with people still lingering over their midday meal, and on to the
 throne room.
  
 He flew up the steps to the Dragon Throne and threw off his soiled
 ct oak as he collapsed into the throne. Quentin called angrily for his
 High Minister, his voice booming out into the quiet of the deserted
 throne room. His call was answered with a flurry of footsteps, but no
 sign ofToli.
  
 Quentin seethed inside. He had risen late later than he had planned
 and had started his journey to Askelon after the sun was well up. This
 put him in a raw mood. Every stride was too slow after that, and he
 arrived in Askelon harried, fuming, and out of patience.
  
 He had slept well enough, curled in his cloak on the farmer's own bed
 the farmer's wife would not have it any other way but that the King
 should have their bed and awakened feeling better than he had in days.
 But his tardy start, and the dark thoughts of what awaited him in
 Askelon, soon destroyed the fragile peace he had achieved.
  
 As a result, he now raged about the lack respect for his person and the
 slipshod attention his interests received.
  
 "Where is the High Minister?" he bellowed. His voice echoed back to
 him from the far corners of the empty hall.
  
 There was no answer.
  
 Quentin sank deeper into his melancholy. He shouted again and this
 time heard answering footsteps.
  
 "Well?" He looked down to see Hagin, the warder, coming resolutely
 toward him.
  
 The man bowed when he reached the dais and said simply, "My lord, you
 have returned."
  
 "Yes, I have returned," Quentin snapped. "Where is everyone? Tell me
 quickly if you value your tongue."
  
 Hagin appeared unperturbed. His clear gray eyes regarded Queniin
 unflinchingly. He was man enough for any monarch's moods. "They are
 gone. Sire," he related simply. "All are gone."
  
 "All? What do you mean all?"
  
 "Everyone."
  
 Quentin stared sullenly at the man. "What are you babbling about?
 Send for them at once."
  
 "It may not be, my lord
  
 "The Queen where is she?"
  
 / S41. I
  
 "Her Highness and the dowager and the children have left Aakclon, the
 Lady Esme with them. They ride for Dekra."
  
 "What?*' He bad not expected that answer. To Dcfcza? Why? "When did
 they leave
  
 "Just before sunrise."
  
 Quentin struck the arm of the throne with his fist. While he had
 dawdled on the road, his wife had left the castle. If he bad not
 stopped, if only be had ridden on to Askelon, he would have been here
 in time to detain her. She would not have gone if be were here.
  
 "Where is the High Minister?" Quentin growled.
  
 "He has disappeared. Your Majesty."
  
 Again an unexpected reply. "Eh?"
  
 "He was last seen in attendance at the hermit's funeral, Sire. After
 the burial he disappeared. He did not return to the castle. It is
 believed he slipped away from the procession on the way back to
 Askelon. No one has beard from or seen him since."
  
 Toli has disappeared? Well he might. If the Prince is not found, it
 would be better if he never returned.
  
 Who else was left? "Theido and Ronsard have they arrived?"
  
 "They arrived, my lord, and immediately took responsibility for the
 search party for the Prince. They have gone."
  
 That was it, then. All were gone those he needed most to see. He was
 alone.
  
 The gnawing loneliness be had felt on the road was upon him once more.
 It was true: everyone he cared about was gone.
  
 Here was a loneliness deeper than that of the temple. Then he had not
 known any different life, but now ... He had not been so deserted in
 years.  Every day he was surrounded by his closest friends and loved
 ones every single day. He thought it would never end, that the
 closeness, the love would go on forever. But sadly he was wrong. In
 three short days already it seemed a lifetime his world had been
 shattered and the pieces scattered by some cruel fate. Nothing
 remained now of the happiness he had so recently possessed.
  
 "Sire?"
  
 Quentin stirred himself. The warder was looking at him strangely.
  
 The Sword and the Fkmu
  
 "I asked if that would be all. Sire."
  
 "Yes, that will be all. Go now. Leave me' He heard the man's steps
 diminish as Hagin left the hall. A door closed, and a boom rang in the
 silence like a pronouncement of doom.
  
 There in the dim interior of his throne room, the King gave himself
 over to the hopelessness that assailed him, sinking deeper and still
 deeper beneath the crushing weight of despair.
  
 With a round wooden bowl tucked between his knees, Toli sat on a woven
 grass mat outside the summer hut of Hoct. The Jher went about their
 daily business around him, but he was aware of their constant sidelong
 glances which told him that he was still very much in their minds. No
 one would ask him about what had happened last night as he stood before
 the fire unable to speak that would be too impolite. Still, they would
 wonder, and the gentle Jhcr would watch him when they thought he was
 not looking. So Toli, aware of their scrutiny, pretended not to notice
 and slowly dipped his hand into the bowl for the sweet mulberries that
 were his breakfast.
  
 A shadow fell over him as he squatted in the sunlight listening to the
 chirp and twitter of the early morning forest, the soft soughing of the
 upper branches in the breeze, drinking in the musty fragrance of earth
 and bark and growing things. Toli glanced up at the figure which had
 come to stand before him.
  
 "You are leaving again," Hoet observed.
  
 Toli nodded. "I must."
  
 "I knew that you had not returned to stay. You are needed, for there
 is trouble in the land."
  
 Toli cocked an eye to the old chieftain. "You know about the white
 men's trouble?"
  
 "It is not only the trouble of the white race, when darkness falls, it
 covers all. Yes, we know there is trouble in the land. Wind is a
 swift messenger, and the forest holds no secrets from the Jher."
  
 "Then you know the King I serve needs your help. His son has been
 taken from him by force."
  
 Hoet nodded and leaned long on his staff before be spoke again. When at
 last he did, he replied, "And you carry the blame for this deed."
  
 / 843 I
  
 Toli looked away. "How did you know
  
 "How else can it be that you are not with your master in his time of
 need? He blames you, or you blame yourself, and that ii why you ride
 alone."
  
 "Yes," replied Toli softly. "Your wits are as sharp as your eyes, Wise
 One."
  
 "When you did not speak last night before the fire, I knew though I
 guessed even when you came riding alone to our camp." "Then you knew
 why I could not speak." "Come with me," said Hoet, and started away.
 Toli rose, set the bowl aside, and followed the aged Jhcr leader
 through the village among the trees. The glances of his kinsmen
 followed him as they walked the length of the camp to where Toll's
 horse waited, already saddled, grazing in a clump of sweet clover at
 his feet.
  
 "You do not belong here, Toli. Go now."
  
 Toli felt the color rise to his face; his shame burned within him. "You
 are right to send me away. I have dishonored my people."
  
 "It is not from dishonor that I send you, my son," said Hoet gently.
 Toli's eyes darted to his elder. "Why does it surprise you? You have
 not turned away from your master that would be dis1 honor. No, I send
 you for yourself. Go, my son, and find the white leader's son. Your
 life will not be your own until you have found the boy."
  
 Toli smiled and gripped the old man's arm. "Thank you, my father. The
 knife in my heart does not hurt so much now."
  
 "Yes, go. But come again one day, and we will sit together and share
 meat."
  
 Toli took up the tether peg and gripped the reins, swinging himself
 easily into the saddle. Riv snorted, eager to be off. "I will ride
 more swiftly with your blessing."
  
 "I have no blessing to give you that Whinoek has not already given."
 Hoet paused, regarding the slim man before him. It is said the King
 raises a temple to the One Most High."
  
 "Yes," replied Toli. "The Father of Life is not widely known among the
 white race. My master seeks to make the name of the God Most High
 known to every man alive under the great heavens so that they may
 worship the only true god'
  
 "That is most worthy replied Hoct. "But it seems to this old one
 that where one temple stands, another may not also stand. Is this not
 true
  
 Toli stared at his tribesman for a moment before the implication of
 what Hoet had said broke in on him. "Yes, your words are true. Wise
 One, and I would hear more."
  
 Hoct shrugged and lifted his antlered staff. "It has been reported to
 me that there has been much night traveling in the forest by men from
 the east, who also returned that way. I did not see them, so I cannot
 say how it is, but the white men's great temple of Ariel lies to the
 east, does it not?"
  
 "You know well that it docs," said Toli with a grin. "Thank you, my
 father. You have given your son a great blessing." He turned Riv into
 the forest and stopped before entering the shaded trail to raise his
 hand in farewell.
  
 Hoet raised his staff and said, "Go in peace." He remained gazing into
 the forest long after Toli had disappeared, then turned and shuffled
 back into the Jher village.
  
 TWENTY-FIVE
  
 NIMROOD CACKLED with malicious glee at his good fortune as he flitted
 through the shadowy passageways of the High Temple like an overgrown
 bat, his black cloak billowing out behind him like wings. Such a
 stroke of luck! The gods had sent the meddlesome Jher to the very
 steps of the temple.
  
 That ridiculous High Priest wanted to turn him away, thought Nimrood.
 Would have turned him away! But I was there to stop it. and before the
 dog could run away I bad him bound and beaten and thrown into the cell
 with that mewling Prince! Ah ha! Ha, ha!
  
 At first the sorcerer had to fight down the impulse to finish the
  
 / 845 I
  
 deed begun in Pelgrin Forest on the day of the hunt to strike down the
 Jher at once. Even now the old hatred fired his thin blood, but be was
 compelled by a greater prize to turn away from his long nursed wrath at
 the one who had shorn him of his power, his precious magic, and had
 very nearly stripped him also of his life.
  
 The image of that day still burned in Nimrood's black brain:
  
 Durwin, a far inferior wizard, stood before him and would not even
 protect himself, would not lift a finger to summon the power at his
 call not that it could have saved him. No, thought Nimrood, nothing
 could have saved him.
  
 And then, as Nimrood lifted his rod to deliver the lethal bolt and so
 blast that cursed hermit's bones to powder .. . that arrow! From out of
 nowhere it had come, striking deep into his flesh, sending the rod from
 his hand. Then, there was the Jher notching another arrow onto his
 bowstring. The sorcerer had pleaded for his life those miserable pleas
 still echoed in his skull. "Don't kill me!" he had screamed, and the
 words had mocked him every moment since that day. He had been humbled
 before the bow of the Jher, but the young warrior had withheld his
 pity, had sent another arrow into his enemy's heart.
  
 It has exhausted every last living spark of Nimrood's power to
 (transform himself into a raven and wing to safety. It was a long time
 before he could once again take mortal shape, for he had not even the
 magic left to change, but was forced to wait until the spell wore off
 of its own accord.
  
 And a bitter exile it was, trapped in that feathered body, prey to the
 element sand living on scraps of dead, rotting meat. But though he
 regained but a thread of his former power the rudiments of mere child's
 dabbling still clung to him, the ability to make noise and light yet he
 had returned to seek his revenge equipped with an older and more
 pernicious art: treachery.
  
 The name of Nimrood the Necromancer had perhaps died from men's memory;
 so be it. His lies would do what enchantment could not of that he was
 certain. Yes, at long last he would have his revenge.
  
 Oh, the gods were fickle and full of mischief! It took all one's
 cunning to outsmart them. Nimrood had done it all his life. And now
 they had finally delivered the victory into his hand. Yes, oh,
  
 yes. Soon the upstart whelp of an acolyte king would suffer as be,
 Nimrood, had been made to suffer all these years.
  
 Nimrood allowed himself one whoop of demented joy at the impending
 consummation of all his dreams. Yes, the Dragon King would fall, and
 that barbarous god of his. that brutish Most High, would fall with
 him.
  
 The wizened old sorcerer clenched his fists and laughed out loud,
 throwing his head back and letting the sound pour forth from his wicked
 throat. It was a sound to chill the marrow of anyone passing by. But
 no one heard it, he was alone and savored the moment to the full, his
 black heart lifted in exulation.
  
 Pym stood before the sign of the Gray Goose, a strolling heap of scrap
 metal and tools, bags and bundles and barter enough for any two
 tinkers. The hand-painted sign of a long-legged, long necked plump gray
 goose wobbled on its chain, the windows of the inn dark now, the door
 open, but silence within.
  
 "Tinker!" he cried. "Tinker, ma*am!"
  
 He waited, winking at Tip. The dog winked back with both eyes.
  
 In a moment he heard footsteps coming toward him across the planked
 floor. Then appeared a round, flushed face and the plump form of Emm,
 the innkeeper's wife. She waved her apron when she saw him,
 exclaiming, "Pym! You are a sight, you are! Come around again, have
 you? Give me a hug."
  
 She threw her arms around him, and be around her. They were old
 friends and good ones. "It's good t* see ye, Emm. You know me I been
 afancy for one of yer meat pasties and a noggin oyer best. We 'uns
 jest had t* come back soon's we 'uns finished away south."
  
 "You missed Emm's cooking, eh? Well, come in, come in with you. We'll
 set a fork and trencher at the board and put you to it."
  
 Pym followed the matron inside, rattling like a calf in a cupboard with
 every step. "Milcher!" she called. "Otho! We got us a guest. Look
 lively, now!"
  
 Milcher poked his round bald head out from behind a cask he was rolling
 across the room. "Oh ho! Pym it is! Oh ho! Pym, good to see you,
 old friend. Come to visit, eh? Glad to have you. Glad to have you!"
 He called over his shoulder, "Otho! Hurry up now! We have a guest!"
  
 A tall boyish-faced man came into the room carrying two small kegs
 under each arm. He grinned at the tinker and put the kegs down, then
 went to the cask his father was straining at. With ease the overgrown
 Otho hefted the cask into place. "Pym and Tipper is it?" He grinned
 boyishly.
  
 Milcher wiped his sweating face on his sleeve. "Whew! I've been at it
 since dawn this morn." He shook his friend's hand. "Come and sit down
 with me. We'll drink a sip and fill our bellies."
  
 "Don't you *uns trouble yerselfs fer we," said Pym. Tip wagged her
 tail amiably, knowing that this was the place where she recieved those
 juicy tidbits and gristly beef bones. She barked once in anticipation
 of such a morsel.
  
 "Yes, Tip," laughed Otho, stooping to pat the dog. "We won't forget
 you.  Good old girl."
  
 Pym threw off his implements and wares and trundled them into a corner.
 He sat down with the innkeeper, and Emm served them up a little stew
 and bread. Otho fetched frothy ale in crockery jars and joined them.
  
 1 They talked of all that had happened since Pym's last visit, and all
 the customers who would need Pym's services. Before long, however,
 their conversation turned to the one subject on everyone's minds and on
 the tips of everyone's tongues in every gathering place in Askelon.
  
 "Shocking!" said Emm, clucking her tongue. "Simply shocking. I can't
 imagine who would want to harm that beautiful boy, poor Prince
 Gerin!"
  
 "Nor who'd be foot enough to go agin' the Dragon King. There's the
 mystery," nodded Milcher knowingly. "Him and that sword of his,
 enchanted and all."
  
 They all shook their heads in bewilderment at the affairs that had
 befallen their King. "You were on the road," continued Milcher. "Did
 you see anything?"
  
 Pym merely shrugged. " "Pears I come too late." He was of half a mind
 to tell them about the dead man in the road, and about the
  
 The Swrd and the Flame sword. But even though they were his friends,
 he thought better of it and kept that pan secret. " *Twas over before
 we 'uns got to Pelgrin, tho a' course we met lots abo dies on the road
 to tell *i."
  
 "Ob, there's talk aplenty, there is," agreed Milcher. "Most of it not
 worth a thimble o' mud. They say it was the Harriers got the boy
 Prince. Others say it was some of that swill-belly Nins cravens
 who've been hiding up in the mountains all these years. Bah! That lot
 was driven into the sea at lance point every last one of 'ero."
  
 "Strange though how nobody has seen hand nor hair of them that took
 him. "Tis very like the earth opened up and swallowed them whole,
 quick as you please. Nobody seen nothing," said Otho.
  
 "I saw the King," volunteered Pym. "This mo ming on the road. Least I
 thought 'twas the King. Looked a King t* me."
  
 Likely did. Likely did," said Milcher, slapping the board with his
 hand. "Ham the butcher says the King rode in this morning all alather.
  Been riding like a wraith for days."
  
 "Did he have his sword when you saw him?" Otho asked Pym.
  
 "What a question!" Milcher cried. "Of course he did. The Dragon King
 never goes anywhere without that sword. That's what makes him
 invincible."
  
 Otho did not back down. "That's not what I heard." He lowered his
 voice and leaned forward across the table so no one would overhear him,
 though there was no one else in the place. "I heard from Glenna, the
 Queen's maidservant "
  
 "Glenna's his sweetheart," put in Otho's mother, smiling a knowing
 smile. "Works in the royal kitchen."
  
 Otho threw a warning glance in her direction but hurried on. " that
 there's talk in the castle that the King has lost his sword!"
  
 "Lost his sword?" Milcher gasped, staring wide-eyed at his son.
 "Bah!"
  
 "He never would!" said his mother in a hushed tone. "Lose the Shining
 One? Never!"
  
 Otho only nodded; his eyes squinted. "He rode out with it the day of
 the hunt.  Everyone m Mensandor saw it its great golden hilt gleaming
 from the scabbard at his side. We all saw it." He put his finger in
 the air for emphasis. "But no one saw it when he returned."
  
 / 849 I
  
 "What happened t' it?" asked Pym. His heart raced faster.
  
 Otho licked his lips. "No one knows." His voice was a whisper. "But
 they say that if the Zhaligkeer is gone, the kingdom is ruined."
  
 "Pshaw!" said his father uneasily. "Who would believe it?"
  
 "It could well be," maintained Otho. "Could well be."
  
 The King is still King, isn't he?" Emm glanced at her son
 apprehensively.
  
 "Aye, as long as he holds the sword. That sword is his power. Without
 it he is doomed."
  
 "Doomed?" wondered Pym.
  
 "Aye, and you would be too. There's some as says that Quentin isn't
 the rightful King, not being blood and all."
  
 "He was chosen, by the gods!" cried Milcher.
  
 "Chosen he was. But it was the sword that backed it up." Otho
 inclined his head conspiratorially. "It is the work of the gods. They
 are angry with this new temple of his; they don't like his chasing
 after that new god that Most High- The old gods are going to humble him
 as an example to the whole kingdom to return to true worship with gifts
 and supplications."
  
 Otho crossed his long arms and leaned back in his chair, smug in his
 rightness in the matter. The others looked at one another helplessly.
 Who was there to dispute what they had heard?
  
 If this was a matter between gods, who could intercede on behalf of
 mere mortals? Who could contest the gods?
  
 Once there was a resolute young man with a flaming sword who had the
 very hand of a god upon him. He was strong, invincible. But he, too,
 had proven only human, subject to the wounds and errors of all flesh.
  
 How fickle the gods were. They had allowed him to prosper for a
 season; now they wanted their tribute, and even the Dragon King would
 have to bend before them. Blazing sword or not, they meant to have
 their due, and the King could not refuse them.
  
 The glittering dreams of the Priest King and his wonderful City of
 Light were just smoke after all. Men were just the playthings of the
 gods.
  
 So it had ever been, and so would ever be.
  
 TWENTY-SIX
  
 IF NOT for the urgency of their errand, Bria would have enjoyed the
 journey to Dekra. The days wore the golden-green mantle of fair
 summer; peace clothed the land and seemed to blossom from every bough.
 The dark deeds of only a short time ago a few days receded into the
 past, more and more remote with every league.
  
 Only the throbbing ache in her heart reminded her that all was not
 well, that her son had been taken from her, that her world would never
 be right until he was returned.
  
 By day she rode with the others, keeping her spirits high talking
 singing, or steeping herself in the beauty of the day. By night she
 prayed; her prayers were not for herself, but for her son and her
 husband, that the Most High would keep them safe wherever they were.
 And sometimes in the night, when no one could see her, she wept.
  
 The Queen and her companions, though unused to the rigors of the road,
 were well looked after by Wilkins and the other two knights, and were
 made as comfortable as possible. And owing to the smoothness of the
 King's Highway, they moved swiftly toward their destination.
  
 "Today we will cross beyond Celbercor's Wall," declared Alinea.
 Several leagues from their camp of the night before, though the sun was
 only a few hours up, they had stopped to eat some breakfast, and to let
 the Princesses gather wildflowers.
  
 "Have we come that far?" asked Esme with some surprise. "I thought
 the journey would be much longer."
  
 "Before the King's Road, yes. Quentin's work in extending the highway
 has made travel to this part of the kingdom the easier and more quickly
 done.
  
 / 85; /
  
 "We may reach Dekra by evening tomorrow if we hurry said Alinea.
 She pointed to the east and south where the mountains lifted their
 heads to the clouds. "Celbercor's Wall runs from the sea into those
 hills of rock. Once beyond it, Dekra is only two days ride."
  
 "Oh, then let us hurry by all means," cried Esme. "I have always
 wanted to visit Dekra. You have told me so much about it, I cannot
 wait to see it."
  
 "It is indeed a most remarkable place," said Bria. She gazed into the
 distance as if she were looking for the sweeping towers of the city to
 rise above the horizon. "The Ariga were a noble and beautiful people.
 Theirs is a city like no other."
  
 "Yes, and much changed since I first saw it," Alinea said, and began to
 tell them about the occasion other first visit the flight to Dekra in
 the dead of winter with Theido and Durwin, Quenlin and Trenn, the wild
 midnight ride to the wall just ahead of the Harriers;
  
 Quentin's near-fatal tangle with the poisoned talons of a Harrier's
 hawk and their anxious vigil over him as he lapsed into deathlike sleep
 upon reaching the ancient ruined city; the extraordinary love and
 kindness of the Curatak who healed him.
  
 When she finished, Esme's lovely features held a mesmerized look. "I
 have never heard the story before oh, a piece of it here and there.
 But to hear it now like this .. ." She turned admiring eyes upon
 Alinea. "You were very brave, my Lady. You and the others. It is a
 most remarkable tale. Now I want to see Dekra all the more."
  
 They rode on, following the road through wooded hills and pleasant
 lowlands, green and fragrant in the sun. Sometimes they met farmers
 leading ox-drawn carts, or other travelers merchants on foot or in
 wagons, riders speeding on hurried errands to distant parts of the
 realm. But most often they had the road to themselves for long
 stretches.
  
 Celbercor's Wall, that singular, enduring feat of strength and cunning,
 grew as they approached; first a thin line crossing the far hills, gray
 in the distance, with no more substance than abank of low-lying
 clouds. Closer, it loomed high and strong, rising from the crown of
 hills with solid force, the sun shining full on its blank stern face.
  
 The road bent along the face of the wall toward the Malmar
  
 The Svwdand die Flame
  
 Inlet. The travelers rode down the long wooded slope to the rocky
 shore of the inlet. There they stopped, watered the horses, and
 waited.
  
 "How will the ferryman know to come for us?" asked Esme.
  
 "Watch," replied Bria. One of the knights had made his way along the
 shore to a tall pine pole standing in a heap of stones. There he
 fastened a red pennon to a cord attached to the pole and raised the
 pennon to the top where it waved smartly in the breeze. "You see? We
 have only to wait a little. The ferryman will see the signal and come
 at once."
  
 "Clever!"
  
 "It was Quentin's idea. When he used to travel frequently between
 Askelon and Dekra, it was often difficult to find a boat on this side
 of the inlet. So he established the ferry hoping, I think, that one
 day travel to Dekra would much increase."
  
 They sat on the warm rocks, listening to the calls of seabirds wheeling
 overhead and the lap of water murmuring to the rocks at their feet. In
 a lit dc while they saw a wide flat boat plying toward them across the
 water.
  
 "Good day, my ladies," greeted the ferryman when he had brought the
 boat into the narrow rock-lined channel that had been cut into the
 shore. "A good day for travel. Going to Dekra, is it He eyed them
 each with good-natured curiosity.
  
 "Yes, we are," replied Alinea.
  
 "Allow me to fetch you across first, if you please. Then I will return
 for the coach and horses."
  
 "Thank you, Rol," said Bria.
  
 The man turned and looked at her carefully. "My Lady? Do I... it is!
 I am sorry. Your Highness! I did not recognize you!" He bowed
 quickly, reddening with embarrassment. The Princesses tittered
 happily.
  
 "It has been some time," laughed Bria. "And I am hardly dressed the
 part of a Queen."
  
 "No, my Lady," Rol bobbed his head- He said no more, but went quickly
 to his work. In no time the passengers were sitting on the broad
 benches at the bow. Wilkins stayed behind with the animals and the
 coach.
  
 Rol worked the long oar with his wide strong hands, and the
  
 / 853 I
  
 ferry moved out slowly into the deeper channel, floating to meet the
 current that would carry them across the water.
  
 At Malmarby their arrival was greeted by a score of barefoot children
 who had flocked to the docks to see the strangers. Travelers were still
 not so common an occurrence that they did not draw laughter from
 inquisitive youngsters, as well as amiable stares from their elders.
  
 "I was deeply distressed to hear what happened to young Prince Gerin,"
 said Rol as be led them up a long, planked ramp.
  
 "You have heard then. Now you know why we ride to Dekra/* replied
 Bria.
  
 "Everyone has heard, my Lady. Some of us had gone to the bunt. I was
 there when ... we know what you must feel. But the Dragon King will
 find the evil snakes that did this, I know."
  
 "We are praying for the Prince every moment," said Alinea.
  
 "Yes, my Lady," said Rol. "Perhaps they can help at Dekra. There is
 much power there."
  
 "Thank you, Rol," said Bria.
  
 "If you would excuse me, my Lady." He bowed again and shoved the boat
 back out into the inlet. In no time at all he was back with the coach
 and horses.
  
 The Queen and her entourage remounted and moved on. "I will be here
 when you return!" shouted Rol, who raised his arms and clapped his
 hands, shouting and scattering the children in front of him like
 chickens.
  
 The travelers passed through Malmarby and entered the marshy lowlands
 beyond. The country in Obrey was wilder, more spare and open. It
 changed at once from that on the other side of the inlet, becoming a
 more forbidding place so that the traveler might well feel he had left
 the hospitable world behind and entered a land untamed and
 unpredictable, where anything might happen.
  
 "The coach can go no further," announced Wilkins. Little more than a
 league out of Malmarby the track had all but vanished. Wilkins had just
 returned from surveying the trail ahead. "Even on horseback it will
 not be easy."
  
 "I had quite forgotten how wild this land is," said Bria. "What do you
 advise?"
  
 "Leave the coach," the driver replied. "One of your body The Sword and
 the Flams guards can ride (me of the coach horses and I the other.
 Alinca can take the knight's mount, and the Princesses can ride with
 me."
  
 "Let me take one of them, at least," offered Esme.
  
 "And I the other," said one of the knights.
  
 His comrade dismounted and offered his saddle to AUnea, who accepted.
 "Thank you. It has been too long since I have ridden bareback, and I
 do not think I could manage the feat now."
  
 Wilkins and the first knight began unhitching the horses, then
 rearranged the baggage, distributing the necessary items among the
 riders and abandoning the rest along with the coach, which they hid in
 a bower of young maple saplings and wild ivy. When they had finished,
 all were mounted once more and they continued on their way happily, if
 more slowly.
  
 "My lord," said the chamberlain softly as he rapped on the door, "Lord
 Theido and Lord Ronsard have come. They ask that you receive them at
 once. Sire."
  
 Quentin sat slumped in his huge chair, staring into the cold ashes on
 the hearth before him. His eyes were red from lack of sleep. His hair
 was in disarray and his features coarse and haggard.
  
 "Send them away," he croaked. "I will see no one."
  
 "But, Sire, they insisti"
  
 "How many times must I tell you?" the King shouted, seizing a silver
 cup from the table at his hand and heaving it at the chamberlain's
 disappearing head. The cup struck the door, splashing red wine, like
 blood, over the embossed wood and onto the floor.
  
 He heard voices in the anteroom and then quick steps. His door was
 Hung open and in came Theido, with Ronsard close on his heels.
  
 "My lord, we would speak with you," said Theido tersely.
  
 "We did not think it right that you closet yourself thus, receiving no
 one," added Ronsard.
  
 "It seems you give me no choice," said Queniin. He did not so much as
 turn his eyes toward them, but continued staring into the ashes as if
 they were the ashes of his own life, now dead and spent.
  
 "This is not like you, Quentin," said Theido, deliberately using his
 name.
  
 This brought nothing but a mirthless smile to the King's lips.
  
 / 855 I
  
 "See? The truth: I am no King and never was. I only played at being
 King, and my friends humored me as they would a child." He laughed, an
 aching, hollow sound. Then be turned his face toward them and asked,
 "Where is my son?"
  
 One look at his fearful countenance and both men inwardly gasped so
 great was the change that had occurred since they had seen their friend
 last. Gone was the youthful man full of vigor and quick strength,
 keen-eyed and alert, always sharp as the point of a lance, and eagerly
 winging through life with the reckless vitality of an eagle soaring
 above the clouds for the sheer joy of soaring.
  
 This man before them appeared as one who had lived in darkness for
 years, bereft of hope and brittle with despair. One wrong word and he
 might collapse upon himself in tears or fly into a foaming rage.
  
 "The men are combing the hills and villages beyond Pelgrin. We will
 find him. Sire." Theido was the first to recover his voice. He tried
 to sound matter-of-fact, though the sight of his distraught King
 disturbed him greatly.
  
 "We would have come sooner ..." began Ronsard. His voice failed him,
 and he turned away. "Go away," said the King.
  
 "My lord, we would speak to you as friends." Theido took a step toward
 him. "Please, I ask as a friend, hear us."
  
 "Friends," Quentin mumbled. The word was a curse upon his lips. He
 passed a hand over his eyes and then asked again, "Where is my son?"
  
 "He will be found. Trust in it; he will be found." The Dragon King
 shot an angry look at the two knights. "Trust in it! He says to trust
 that my son will be found!" His voice rose higher as rage leapt up in
 him like a flame. "Trust, eh? Trust what? Trust you? Trust the Most
 High? Ha! There is nothing that a man can trust. Everything deserts
 him in the end. Youth fades. Love grows cold. The works of his hands
 disintegrate or are torn apart by his enemies!"
  
 The King lurched up out of his chair and took up the long iron _ poker
 from the hearth as he began to pace back and forth. "The gods, my
 friends, the gods! Sooner trust in the weather; it is less fickle than
 they. The gods taunt a man, build him up so that they
  
 TTie Sword and the Flame may laugh at him when they dash him under the
 wheels of misfortune. Gnat sport! See how he writhes and tears at his
 flesh! See how his heart turns upon itself; see bow his pain devours
 him!" Theido and Ronsard could only stare at this tirade. "The Most
 High!"* continued the King. "Do not speak to me of the Most High. He
 is more subtle and more wicked than all the rest! He tortures his
 victims with dreams and visions of glory. He prophesies and promises.
 He delivers their enemies into their hands and raises them up far
 beyond their rightful place.
  
 "And then he takes it all away! Takes the man's very heart out of him,
 strips him of all be holds dear in life and casts him bleeding into
 darkness! That is the Most High, God of gods! And fool is he who
 trusts in him!"

  
 With that Quentin threw the poker. It smashed into the table, knocking
 over a tray of food which had been sitting there cold and untouched.
 Silver utensils scattered and clattered to the floor.
  
 Quentin staggered, holding his head, and fell back into his chair
 exhausted.
  
 A stunned silence hung like a pall over the room. Ronsard touched
 Theido on the arm, nodded toward the door, and the two left quietly,
 closing the door behind them..
  
 TWENTY-SEVEN
  
 I 857 I
  
 Would that Durwin were here. He would know what to do Ronsard
 sighed heavily. "I miss that old hermit."
  
 "Aye, and so do I. But we must do the best we can. The kingdom depends
 upon it, I think."
  
 "What shall we do?" Ronsard shrugged helplessly. "Until the Prince is
 recovered, there is nothing to be done."
  
 "No," said Theido slowly, "I perceive there is more to his torture than
 the Prince's disappearance."
  
 "Or Durwin's death?"
  
 "Or Durwin's death. Though both of those weigh heavy on him now, I
 believe he could rise above them if not for his loss of faith in the
 Most High."
  
 "What can we do about that?"
  
 "Find the sword." Theido looked steadily at his friend. "Find the
 sword and return it to him before someone else takes it for himself."
  
 "I am all for it, sir. Only tell me how to do it, and it will be
 done."
  
 "I would tell you if I knew, count on it. I only know that we must
 recover the sword and soon." Theido put his chin in his band and stood
 for a few moments in deep thought. Ronsard watched him and waited.
  
 He said at last, "Ronsard, you must go alone and begin the search."
  
 "And you?"
  
 "I will stay here, close to the King. He may need a stout companion
 nearby."
  
 "As you say, Theido. But where shall I start?"
  
 "That is the puzzle. But I think I have a plan that will be useful to
 us. Are you game to try?"
  
 "I will do anything."
  
 "Good; then come with me.  There is no time to lose."
  
 The first thing he felt as consciousness returned was something cool
 running down the side of his neck. Blood? He raised a hand and felt
 the side of his head where the trickle started.
  
 The movement brought a throb of pain to his aching head. He moaned.
  
 *Toli? Are you alive?"
  
 The voice was hushed, but nearby. He opened his eyes care. fully, then
 squeezed them shut again quickly, the light sending blazing fireballs
 through his brain.
  
 "Ahhh!"
  
 "Just lie back. Do not move," the voice urged. Toli tried to place
 it.
  
 In a moment the throb in his head eased somewhat and he opened his
 eyes, shielding them with his hand. The bare stone room was dim. The
 light slanted down in a single brilliant band from a narrow window high
 up in the wall. He lay on a straw pallet on the floor opposite the
 window.
  
 He turned his head to the side; his vision wavered, but he made out the
 form crouching beside him on folded knees.
  
 "Prince Germ! Oww! What did they do to my head?" "They dumped you in
 here. I was afraid you were dead." "When was that?" Toli pushed
 himself up slowly on his elbows. Each small movement brought a new
 stab of pain through his head.
  
 "Do you not remember?" asked the Prince. He offered again a bit of
 cloth soaked with water that he had applied to Toll's head.
  
 Toli took it and placed it against his forehead. "I remember nothing,"
 he said. "No I remember coming to the temple and asking to see the
 High Priest. I saw him, I think talked with him. The next thing I
 know I am waking up here."
  
 "The High Priest?"
  
 "Yes."
  
 "Is that where we are? The temple?"
  
 "It must be," replied Toli. He looked around the cell and at the door,
 which was not the door of a castle dungeon, though it was heavy oak and
 strong enough to keep a prisoner from breaking free. "Did you not know
 where you were taken?"
  
 "No, it was dark. And they blindfolded me. It seems we walked for
 days- Then I was shoved in here. Days ago. That is the blindfold:
  
 you are holding." Gerin indicated the damp rag.
  
 "I see. How many days?" Toli studied the Prince carefully, searching
 for any signs of mistreatment.,
  
 "Three, I think maybe four. Yes, four. Two before you came."
  
 **I have been here two days?" It did not seem possible.
  
 "This is the second. How do you feel?"
  
 "I will live." Toli reached out a hand and patted the young Prince on
 the shoulder. "You have done welt, young sir. I am glad to see you
 alive- How have they treated you?"
  
 "Well enough. I am fed from their table and have good water." Gerin
 looked eagerly at his friend, glad to have someone he knew with him,
 though both were prisoners. "Toli, what has happened?"
  
 "I scarcely know." He shook his head slowly. How do I tell him? he
 wondered,
  
 "I know about Durwin. I have been worried for Father." "He is well.
 He is searching for you for us. Ronsard and Theido, too."
  
 "Poor Durwin," said Gerin. Tears came to his eyes. "Oh, poor
 Durwin."
  
 "Your father was with him when he died. He died at peace."
  
 Gerin sniffed, trying to hold back his sorrow. But he had been brave
 so long; now that a friend was here, he could let down. The sobs came,
 and the tears washed down his face.
  
 Toli put an arm around the boy's slim shoulders. "It is good to cry.
 He was your friend. There is no shame in tears of mourning." \ When
 Prince Gerin could cry no more, Toli gathered him close, speaking
 softly. "I do not know why this has happened, but there is some evil
 behind it, you may be certain. Priests do not leave the temple to
 murder and kidnap the innocent that is, they have never done so before.
 Why they should start now, I cannot say." He looked at Gerin closely.
 "But we must find out what it is they plan. Think now, what did you
 see?"
  
 The Prince was silent for some moments, then raised his eyes to Toli
 and said, "There were six of them, five of them swordsmen and one other
 the leader. I heard them talking about him."
  
 "What did they say?"
  
 "They do not like him much. That is all." He thought for a moment,
 and added, "And the one who told about Durwin he said that the King had
 killed one of them in the road." He looked at Toli questioningly.
  
 "It is true. In his grief and rage your father struck down one of the
 kidnappers on the road. That is on his heart, too." Toli was silent
 for a moment, then added, "Well, it is done. Perhaps there is yet some
 better purpose behind it. We must hope so."
  
 The two talked and comforted each other. The day, measured by the
 slanting band of light as it moved across the floor and up the opposite
 wall of the cell, stretched on. Toward evening a priest came with two
 bowls of water and a large trencher of food. The door was opened, the
 food slipped in, and the door closed and bolt thrown all in an
 instant.
  
 "This is how the food is brought?" Toll asked.
  
 "Yes, every day. I think they are afraid I will try to escape."
  
 "Have you tried to escape?"
  
 The Prince nodded. "Once on the road." Tarky reared and I fell, or
 was grabbed. That is when he ran away. It was not far from here."
  
 "A horse with Tarky*s sense can find his way back home, or someone will
 catch him and take him to the King. Either way I believe someone will
 soon think to look for us in this direction, the King will find us, you
 will see."
  
 Germ nodded, but said nothing.
  
 Toli patted his shoulder, saying, "Never fear, young sir. I will not
 let anything happen to you." The words almost stuck in his throat.
 Though it cost my life, he thought, I will not fail you again.
  
 TWENTY-EIGHT
  
 / 861 I
  
 sers leaned against the bar. "A jar of your dark, if you please, sir,"
 he replied. "Are you the inn-master?"
  
 "Aye," said Milcher. "I am the keeper. But my wife is the master."
 He gave the man a great wink. "Dark it is, and the best in all
 Mensandor, some say. I myself prefer it."
  
 The innkeeper turned away for a moment to fill the jar, and the man
 took advantage of the lapse to study the interior of the inn. The Gray
 Goose was filled tonight. There was a hubbub of conversation, which
 was normal, but this overlaid a churning current of excitement- An
 atmosphere of expectancy thickened in the place as dense as the smoke
 from the pipes of the patrons, which curled toward the low-beamed
 ceiling. Ale Jars clinked, and men drank and talked in strained,
 nervous voices.
  
 Ronsard had felt it the moment he walked in this tingly, anxious
 suspense. It was as if they were all gathered there waiting for
 something to happen, knowing that something would happen, wanting it to
 happen.
  
 Secure now in his disguise as a peasant, there was little chance of
 discovery; he was not a frequenter of inns and did not live in Askelon
 any longer, so it was unlikely he would meet anyone he knew. Ronsard
 turned back to Milcher, who was laying the pewter jar on the board.
 "Strange mood tonight, eh?"
  
 "Aye for the last two nights." Milcher nodded slyly.
  
 "How so?"
  
 "Have you been out of the country, man? The kidnapping' The King's
 sword lost!" Milcher rolled his eyes and leaned close. "There is
 wickedness about, my friend. Folks do well to look to themselves, if
 you know what I mean."
  
 "I heard about the kidnapping," said Ronsard, sipping from his jar,
 "but what is this about the King's sword? I know nothing of that."
  
 "Oh!" cried Milcher. He leaned close again in the air of a man
 discharging a secret it burned him to keep. "The King's sword is gone.
 No one knows where. It is said the King will fall. Without the sword
 he cannot stand."
  
 "You cannot mean the Shining One "
  
 "One and the same! Yes, that's the one. What other sword would it
 be?" He turned to the other man working at the bar.
  
 "Otho! Come here."
  
 Otho lumbered up and fixed Ronsard with a look of benign appraisal.
 "Yes?"
  
 "Otho, tell this fellow about the King's enchanted sword." Otho was not
 tired of relating his knowledge, though he bad done little else since
 he heard it. With enthusiasm he embroidered on the scant details he
 possessed, embellishing them to lend his tale extra color.
  
 "Aye I see what you mean." Ronsard nodded solemnly when
  
 Otho had finished. "This could be bad. Very bad indeed. I am glad
  
 I am not the King."
  
 "His fish is flayed, as they say. I do not think he will be King for
 long. There is much talk against him now."
  
 "I have not heard such talk."

  
 "It is hist beginning. There was a man in here last night, a
 white-bearded fellow from the north, out of Obrey. He said that people
 there are afraid of the Dragon King's new god this Most High of his.
 They are arming to protect their temples."
  
 "Protect their temples? From what?"
  
 "From the King! The Dragon King has sent men to pull down the
 temples." Otho nodded knowingly, his round face glowing with pleasure
 at having such a dull-witted and uninformed listener.
  
 "Aye, I have been hearing the same," put in Milcher.
  
 "Who is this man this one who is saying these things?"
  
 "He was in here last night. Told us all about it. If you wait a bit
 be may be back. I think he said he would come back tonight if he was
 still in Askelon." Milcher swept his eyes over the crowds lining the
 benches and hunched over the tables of his establishment. "I do not
 see him now, but he may come later."
  
 Ronsard took up his jar and said, "I will wait in that case. I want to
 hear what he has to say. Point him out to me when he comes."
  
 They had come upon the ruined city in the setting sun. The red stone
 ofDekra glimmered like ruby in the crimson twilight, its delicate
 spires and finger-thin towers rising toward the deep blue
  
 / 863 I
  
 heavens. The city seemed to have magically appeared, dropped out of
 the sky into the wilderness, a thing of charmed creation,
  
 "This is Dekra," said Esme. "I have never seen anything like it. It
 is so ... so different."
  
 "It is a strange beauty," replied Bria. "Very unlike the cities we
 build. The Ariga used many building methods unknown to us."
  
 "There has been much accomplished here since last I set eyes upon it,"
 said Alinea- "That was long ago. But Quentin has told me that the work
 goes on apace. Yes, much has been done."
  
 They rode to the gates of Dekra, now closed against the night. But upon
 reaching the huge tiled gates a boy appeared, popping his head through
 the smaller gale-door cut in one side of the much greater panel. He
 disappeared again, quick as a blink, and they heard his voice calling
 on the other side. "Visitors! Open the gates! Visitors!"
  
 They waited, and in a little while heard the creak of the gates
 opening. The stoop-shouldered man who met them smiled and ushered them
 through the gates, saying, "I am sorry to have shut you out. We did
 not expect visitors this night, or I would have left them open for you.
  Come in, come in. Welcome to Dekra!"
  
 The travelers all dismounted, glad to be free of the saddle. The man
 closed the gates once more and then hurried to them. "Have you ridden
 far, good people?"
  
 "From Askelon," replied Alinea.
  
 "All is well in Askelon, I hope. It is a far ride; you must be very
 tired." He peered at them with kindly eyes, glad to see these visitors
 who would bring some news of the rest of the kingdom. "I have sent the
 boy to bring an elder. I am sure he will want to receive you
 properly."
  
 At that moment there were voices; they looked up to see the young boy
 followed by a man in a long mantle coming swiftly toward them. Behind
 him were several others who had dropped what they were doing in order
 to come and make the visitors welcome.
  
 "Ah, Alinea! Bria! How good to see you again! Oh, this is a joyous
 surprise! Look," he called to those around him, "the Queen has come!
 And Alinea!"
  
 Alinea looked at the man, trying to remember him. Bria stepped up just
 then. Mother, you certainly remember Elder
  
 Jollen."
  
 "Oh yes, I remember him well. It has been a long time. I am much
 surprised you remember me!"
  
 "Not as long as all that to look at you, you have not changed a bit.
 You are still as lovely as ever you were." The elder bowed to the
 ladies graciously. "And, Bria, if not for your mother standing here
 beside you, I would declare you were her. So much alike you are.
 Flowers of the same bud. Speaking of flowers...." He winked at the
 Princesses, who giggled.
  
 "You do flatter us, sir."
  
 "No flattery, my Queen. It is the truth." His eyes turned to Esme,
 standing nearby. "And you must be the lovely Esme, of whom so many
 good things have been spoken."
  
 "I am honored, sir, and much impressed, for surely we have never
 met."
  
 "No, but it is not difficult to guess your identity. I remember an
 occasion or two when Bria told me about her friend. I knew when I saw
 you that you must be she. Welcome." He turned his eyes to Wilkins and
 the knights. "Welcome, good friends all." Elder Jollen paused,
 regarded his guests carefully, and added, "May you find in Dekra that
 which you seek."
  
 There was silence for a moment, then be clapped his bands and said,
 "Now then, the Governor's Palace is ready for you. My wife instructs
 me that you are to dine with us this night. But take your time;

 refresh yourselves from your trip. Some of the young people will go
 along to help you settle your belongings."
  
 "Thank you, Jollen," said Bria. "But I feel already revived having
 just set foot in Dekra. We will join you soon."
  
 "Excellent! Go along now. I will invite the other elders to join us
 after the meal and we will talk with your permission?"
  
 "Yes, please do. I would have suggested it. I think it will be
 best."
  
 "It is good to be here again," remarked Alinea. "I had forgotten how
 it lifts the heart, and bow much I have missed it without knowing what
 it was I longed for."
  
 "Then I am glad you have come. Perhaps you may stay a long while, my
 Lady." JoUen beamed happily at his weary guests. Yes," he said
 again, "I am glad you have come."
  
 The visitors were immediately swept up and away by the happy
 inhabitants of Dekra, and led to the old Governor's Palace in the heart
 of the restored section of the city in a procession that wound through
 the narrow paved streets of the ancient ruin. All along the way
 Curatak stopped to watch them pass, greeting them enthusiastically or
 joining in the throng.
  
 Esme gazed in wonder at all she saw; everything appeared so foreign and
 so strange. The walls of buildings all aglow in the setting sun shone
 with colored tiles mosaics of the life of the vanished Ariga. Great
 arches and long colonnades of graceful spiral colunms all carved from
 the same gleaming red stone gave the appearance of a majestic, exalted
 race. The simple sweeping lines of their architecture spoke to her of
 lofty purpose and a nobility of heart and mind.
  
 The effect was singular. So simple and yet so right. Yes, that was
 the word. There was a rightness about things here, she decided. A
 wholeness. A wholeness of what? She did not know yet. It was only
 upon seeing and experiencing Dekra that one noticed the aching lack in
 the rest of the world.
  
 All around her the Curatak chattered like happy children, glad to see
 them, to receive visitors. She felt their eagerness splash over her
 like spring rain, reviving her, warming her. She felt the great lump
 of buried ice she had carried so long in her heart begin to thaw and
 melt.
  
 Oh, she thought to herself, what a wonderful, fantastic place. I am
 glad I came. By the time they reached the Governor's Palace she was
 thinking. Truly this is the city of gods. I never want to leave.
  
 TWENTY-NINE
  
 To PYM, the inside ofAskelon Castle was utterly and inexpressibly
 remote like a castle of the gods in the far mountains. He had often
 seen the high, forbidding walls rising from the great crown of rock on
 which the castle was founded, and had as often wondered what the inside
 looked like.
  
 Of course he had been through the gates on occasion on his visits to
 the kitchens where he did his business with the King's staff. But
 never had he been invited into the castle itself, and the close
 proximity served to heighten, rather that diminish, his curiosity.
  
 But now it appeared he would be allowed through the inner gates and
 into the halls and chambers beyond perhaps even.to stand in the Great
 Hall of the Dragon King. Reluctantly he siaid good-bye to Tip, being
 forced to leave the dog in the inner ward yard, and turned to wait for
 the chamberlain who would conduct him inside. He bad come at dusk,
 after his day's work was finished, thinking lhat Kings worked sunup to
 sundown like other men, and that he would have a better chance of an
 audience when the King's daily labors were done.
  
 Ordinarily Oswald son of Oswald the Elder, who had died some years ago,
 following the death of Eskevar would not have dreamed of letting the
 little tinker inside the castle, but would have sent him straightaway
 to the kitchens. But he was overwhelmed with anxiety for the King.
 Quentin had sunk further into depression and did not stir from his
 stuffy chamber, which he now kept sealed and dark as a tomb.
  
 Oswald feared for the King. Even Theido had been powerless to effect
 any change in the King's behavior. So anything was worth a try even a
 tinker who came to the gates imMting on seeing the King, saying be had
 important information for him, information which only the Dragon King
 himself could hear.
  
 "I am Oswald, the King's chamberlain," he had explained. "What do you
 want?"
  
 Pym, sitting on a stone bench just under the archway of the main castle
 entrance, stood up quickly and came forward. "Good sir, if ye please,
 be s* kind as to bring me to the King. We 'uns'vc a pressing matter t'
 set afore His Highness."
  
 "The King," informed Oswald coldly, hoping to draw information from the
 man, "sees no one who will not state his business to me."
  
 Pym scratched his jaw. "That I cannot say, sir. It is fer the King."
 He leaned forward and confided, "But I kin tell ye this much...."
  
 "Yes?** Oswald glared at the man, but be seemed not to notice. "It be
 veery, veery important. That's what 'tis, yes." "And what does this
 important information concern "That be fer the King, sir. Not fer
 no'ua else." Oswald could see that the man was adamant about an
 audience with the King. He looked harmless enough, and woo could say
 but that the tinker might indeed have something that could be useful to
 his master, though chat seemed highly unlikely. Still there was a
 possibility, and in this dark time even the minutest chances might be
 snatched at.
  
 "What is your name sir?" asked Oswald. "Pym, sir. Pym 'tis, and Pym
 't always will be "Very well, Pym. Although it is not my proper
 course to admit you like this, I will. But if you waste the King*s
 time and my own with worthless drivel or idle rumor such as is heard in
 any village market or inn, I will have you removed promptly. Do you
 understand? You will never be welcome in Askelon again!" He looked at
 the tinker sharply. "Now, then, do you stiH want to see His Majesty?"
 "I do, sir." Pym swallowed hard.
  
 "Do you still maintain that your information is vital to his cars
 alone?"
  
 ""Tis,sir.**
  
 Tk< Smmf and the Flaw
  
 "Follow me.1*
  
 With that Oswald the Younger turned on his heel and walked away. Pym
 hesitated. "Well?1* asked Oswald. *"Aic you coming?"
  
 Pym nodded and hurried after the chamberlain. They marched along a
 wide, polished corridor where servants moved, hurrying about their
 chores. To Pym, the smooth stone walls and oak beamed ceilings seemed
 things of enchanted origin. He marveled at even the most commonplace
 fumuhings be glimpsed along the way, for they were royal funushmgs.
 This was the home of the Dragon King, and these were the Dragon King's
 chattel.
  
 Past countless doorways they wenti past halls each with huge carven
 doors and galleries hung with giant tapestries of rich design. Up
 stairs and down stairs they went, deeper and deeper into the heart of

 the castle, and with every step Pym grew more excited. He was to see
 the King!
  
 Finally they stopped in a short passageway of paneled oak the royal
 apartments. Oswald led them to a door which bore the carved and
 red-lacquered figure of a terrible, twisting dragon. The chamberlain
 put his band to the latch and said, "Wait here; I will announce you."
  
 Pym, with palms sweating now, wiped his bands on the backside of his
 pants, shifted first on one foot, then on the other. Perhaps it was a
 mistake perhaps it would be better to tell the chamberlain and let him
 decide if the Ring should hear his story. Yes, without a doubt. Let
 the chamberlain decide.
  
 But before Pym could change his mind, Oswald reappeared, and he was
 yanked inside. Oswald took him through this first room there were
 chairs and a great long table piled high with many scrolls of plans for
 buildings and a gleaming suit of armor standing on its frame and to a
 door at the further end, to the King's inner chamber.
  
 Oswald knocked softly, opened the door, and pushed Pym in. "Sire, Pym
 the tinker to see you." The door was closed quickly and quietly behind
 him, cutting off his only escape,
  
 Pym tottered forward on shaky knees, his eyes unused to the darkness,
 his mind reeling in the awesome knowledge that he was in the presence
 of the mighty Dragon King. It was almost more than be could endure.
  
 As evening came on, the inn grew crowded and the conversation more
 intense. Amidst the clink of ale jars in the hazy, murk filled room,
 Ronsard, in his disguise as an ordinary laborer, listened and watched
 all that took place around him.
  
 Something was at work; be could sense it, feel it. What is more, all
 gathered at the Gray Goose could feel it too. A heightened impatience,
 a simmering restlessness seethed just below the surface. Expectation,
 at first casual, had been drawn tighter and tighter until it hummed
 like a bowstring. Anticipation quivered in every voice, danced in
 every eye.
  
 Tonight there would be trouble.
  
 Ronsard had seen moods like this before in crowds of men. On the
 battlefield it could send troops into a foaming fury to drive the enemy
 into flight. It could Just as easily turn back on itself and ignite
 flames of fear, causing even field-proven veterans to abandon their
 arms in mortal terror. Which way it turned depended on the leader.
  
 But who was the leader here? He wondered. That white bearded traveler
 the innkeeper had mentioned?
  
 Ronsard drifted unseen from table to table, listening here and there to
 what was said, trying to determine not only what sparked this unnatural
 mood, but also what course it would take when it broke.
  
 "I tell *ee," said a man, "the god's er angered."
  
 " "Tis the fault o* the King. Any man, blind or not, can see that
 plain enough," said another.
  
 "It is no good going against them. No good at all."
  
 "Dangerous it is! Dangerous!"
  
 "Something must be done!"
  
 "The sword is lost, did you hear? The Zhaligkeer is lost."
  
 "Aye, there's trouble coming. It has brought us nothing but trouble.
 What's wrong with the old ways?"
  
 "Old ways are best! By the gods!"
  
 "The Shining One gone? What can it mean?"
  
 "The kingdom is without a King! That is what it means!"
  
 So the voices went. And of all the gossip Ronsard heard, one item
 concerned him more than any other: they knew about the missing sword.
 The King's enemies would know soon, if not already, and then the
 infighting would start.
  
 Would Quentin be equal to it? Ordinarily, yes. But not now, not in
 his present condition.
  
 Ronsard settled back along a rear bench and watched the room, as one
 would watch a caldron beginning to boil. Would this stranger, this
 Longbeard show himself? What if he did not come what would happen?
 Ah, what would happen if he did appear? That was more to be feared.
  
 Ronsard stood and was about to return his long-empty ale jar to the bar
 when Longbeard entered. Ronsard did not see or hear him. Rather, he
 knew the man had appeared by the sudden tension in the room, the thrill
 that tingled in the dank, smoky air.
  
 The inn grew hushed.
  
 "He is here!" said a voice close by.
  
 "There he is. That's the one I told you about."
  
 "Ah, yes. Here he is."
  
 "Now we will find out what to do."
  
 "Longbeard will tell us what to do!"
  
 The whispers swirled around the gnarled old man like dry leaves around
 a bent old tree. Longbeard moved into them easily. If he understood
 the sensation his sudden appearance had caused, he showed no outward
 sign of it.
  
 Ronsard watched him walk to the center of the room, making his way to
 the bar. The inn was completely silent now. All eyes were on the old
 man with the flowing white hair and beard. Watching. Waiting,
  
 Then came a shout. "Longbeard! Have you seen him?"
  
 Seen whom? wondered Ronsard.
  
 Longbeard turned toward the voice and replied, speaking normally, but
 so every ear could hear him, "Yes. I nave just come from his
 chambers."
  
 A man standing near him asked, "Will he change his mind?"
  
 "No." Longbeard shook his head slowly, with infinite sadness. "He will
 not change his mind."
  
 "Then we must take matters into our own hands," shouted someone from
 across the room.
  
 "Tell us what to do said another.
  
 Longbeard held up his hands. "It is not for me to tell you what to do.
 I am a simple man like yourselves. I know not the ways and minds of
 gods or kings."
  
 The knowledge stung Ronsard like the blow from the flat of a sword.
 The King! He was talking about the King! Quentin was the "he" this
 Longbeard mentioned.
  
 But bow was this possible? It was improbable that this white bearded
 old stranger had been allowed to see the King. The Dragon King had
 shut himself in his rooms and would see no one not even his closest
 friends, as Ronsard well knew. Yet, the implication was plain: I have
 been to see the King and he will not change his mind. Change his mind
 about what? What game was this twisted old root playing? What was his
 aim?
  
 I must speak to him alone, thought Ronsard. I must get him out of here
 some way and take him where we can talk without being overheard. There
 are too many people here. The situation could get out of hand.
  
 But before Ronsard could form a plan in his mind, someone shouted,
 "Tear the King's temple down!"
  
 "By all the gods, yes! Tear it down!" answered another.
  
 Other voices took up the shout and added their agreement. Benches were
 thrown over as men Jumped up. In an instant every man in the room was
 on his feet, fists in the air, crying for the destruction of the King's
 Temple.
  
 This, then, is the spark that ignites the flame, thought Ronsard. But
 there must be a way to stop it. He glanced around for a place to
 stand, saw an empty table nearby, and jumped up on it.
  
 "Friends!" he cried in his sternest, most authoritative tone.
 "Friends, listen to roe!" The clamor which shook the inn died down
 somewhat. "Listen to me!" He held up his hands for silence and looked
 around him at the upturned faces. He had their attention now.
  
 "Friends, what you propose to do is wrong. It is very dangerous as
 well. Some of you could get hurt hurt very badly. Maybe even killed.
 It is no small thing to go against the King. Do you think he will not
 defend his temple? How many of you would make your wives widows this
 night?"
  
 Ronsard noticed that some of the eyes slid away from his un easily.
 Good, he thought, this is working. But I must give them something
 now.
  
 "Let us instead send a petition before the King," suggested the knight.
 "We will demand that he account to us for the raising of this temple.
 The petition can be our voice."
  
 There were mutters of agreement all around. Hot heads were cooling
 under Ronsard's sobering logic. He drew a sleeve across his face to
 wipe away the sweat.
  
 "Please," he continued in a more reasonable tone, "for your own sakes,
 and for your families, let us all sit down together and draw up the
 petition."
  
 "When?" said someone close by.
  
 "At once here and now!"
  
 "And then?" the same voice asked.
  
 "And then I will take it to the King personally." Yes, thought
 Ronsard, this is working. A disaster has been averted tonight.
  
 But just as he framed the thought, there came a shout from across the
 room. He glanced up to see old Longbeard standing on a table pointing
 at him.
  
 "Lies!" Longbeard screamed, "Lies!" Before Ronsard could speak the
 old man shouted, "Do any of you know this man?"
  
 The crowd grumbled its answer: no one knew him.
  
 "Ah, you see!" shouted Longbeard- "He is one of the King's men. I saw
 him when I went to see the King this evening. He was there. The King
 has sent him here as a spy among us!"
  
 "No! It is not true! I only want to help you."
  
 "King's man!" a burly peasant shouted behind him.
  
 "It is true, I am a friend of the King. But I am no less your friend.
 I am warning you: do not go against him in this matter. Do not take
 th"
  
 Before Ronsard could finish speaking, he felt the table on which he was
 standing rise up, tilting away from him.
  
 "Lies!" they shouted. "Liar! We'll do for you!"
  
 The table tipped, and Ronsard was pitched to the floor. He landed on
 his side, and the fall knocked the wind out of him. He rolled to his
 knees, gasping for breath.
  
 A boot lashed out and struck him in the ribs. A fist caught him behind
 the ear. He struggled for his feet.
  
 The room spun crazily. The air was heavy, and Ronsard found it hard to
 breathe. Loud voices buzzed in his ears, but he could not hear what
 they were saying. Feet and fists pummeled him.
  
 Ronsard rolled into aball to protect himself, throwing his arms over
 his head. A table crashed to the floor nearby, scattering ale jars. A
 heartbeat later, light exploded behind his closed eyelids. His limbs
 jerked convulsively, and be lay still.
  
 THE MEAL had been simple, wholesome fare: brown bread and white cheese,
 braised meat, early vegetables and fruit. Esme, enraptured with Dekra,
 thought each dish a delicacy, and savored every bite.
  
 She spoke little during the meal, but listened to all that was said *
 around her. There was a quality to the voices she heard a song which
 rang in the air, faintly but noticeably; it was music to charm her
 soul. Upon reaching their rooms in the visitor's quarters of the
 Governor's Palace, they had bathed in fresh, sun-warmed water and
 changed clothes, accepting clean new gowns of white with light summer
 mantles of blue, tied at the waist with long blue sashes. They had
 rested then on clean featherbeds, awaking refreshed when their young
 guides came for them.
  
 When they reached Elder Jollen's dwelling, the stars were beginning to
 light the twilight sky, and the sound of laughter and music drifted out
 of the courtyard adjoining his home. Many of Dekra's people had been
 invited to make welcome the important visitors. There were candle
 lanterns all around lining the tops of the walls and hanging from the
 trees. A long table had been brought outside where they could sit;
 others made themselves comfortable on cushions or benches along the
 wall. After they had eaten, songs were sung and the Elders told
 stories to the amusement of all.
  
 The evening passed like a dream, a dream of happiness and light, of
 fullness and peace. Flowing peace, thought Esme, like a river. Not
 merely the absence of care, but a deeper all-absorbing trust in the
 ultimate rightness of things. Like a river that runs along its course,
 be it rocky or smooth, accepting both with equal ease, never allowing
 the rocks to stanch the flow, filling the deeps and shallow places
 alike, covering all and flowing on.
  
 All this Esme received from looking and listening; looking at those
 around her and-Ustening to her heart.
  
 When at last they were alone with the Elders the little Princesses were
 carried back to their beds sound asleep Bria began to tell them why
 they had come. Esme waited to see how the Elders would receive this
 news, and what they would do about it.
  
 They were unusual men, these elders, she thought as she watched them
 nodding their heads gravely, their very presence invoked an aura of
 wisdom and trust. Only moments before they had been telling funny
 stories and laughing the loudest of any. They sat or moved among their
 people without regard for their exalted position indeed, more like
 servants than leaders. But now they sat in solemn council, entering
 into the troubled events that Bria described with empathy and
 compassion. Not as judges, but as sympathetic friends, they listened
 with all attention, sometimes nodding, sometimes shaking their heads
 sadly, but listening until the Queen was finished.
  
 "... And that is why we have come to you," Bria was saying. "We did not
 know what else to do."
  
 Elder Orfrey, the man chosen to replace Yeseph, spoke gently in answer.
  "You have done well to come here. We will help you all we can."
  
 "Ah, the many shapes of evil," said Elder Patur. "Darkness is most
 inventive in its combat with the light."
  
 "But powerless in the end," added Elder Clemore.
  
 "Yes, as long as men refuse to give in to it," said Elder Jollen.
  
 "The battle rages on all sides," said Patur, "and men are drawn into
 the melee whether they will or no. I see that the battle has come once
 more to Askelon and to the King. But it is ever thus darkness fears
 the places where light burns the brightest, and these the darkness
 would destroy."
  
 / 875 I
  
 "What can be done' asked Bria. Esme wondered die same thing.
  
 "That is the responsibility of the Most High," replied Clemore. "We
 will seek his guidance."
  
 "Through prayer?"
  
 "Yes, through prayer," said Patur. "We will hold a prayer vigil for
 Quentin and young Gerin, Toli, and the others- Concerning Durwin,
 though we mourn his passing, we will rejoice in his entrance to the
 kingdom of the Most High, and pray that his reward is great. We will
 begin at once."
  
 With that the men Joined hands with the women and began to pray. Esme,
 who had never prayed in this fashion, felt awkward at first, but
 relaxed and turned her mind to the prayers of the Elders. As she
 listened, she felt a moving within her; her heart quickened, responding
 to the words, but also to something more: a presence unseen, but
 distinct. It was as if the Most High had come to sit among them,
 entering into their prayer.
  
 Esme's scalp prickled at the thought a god who walks among his people!
 How strange. Gods were remote, disinterested, living in their
 mountains or in their temples, served by man, but never serving, as
 likely to harm as to help if it pleased them.
  
 At that moment she gave herself to the God Most High, saying to
 herself, "I know not of your ways as others here; but. Most High, if
 you will receive me I will follow you. For I, too, would learn of you
 and serve you."
  
 In response Esme felt a slight rising sensation, as if her soul were
 being lifted up. By this she knew that her prayer had been heard and
 accepted. She gripped the hand on either side other more tightly, and
 felt life begin to trickle through her heart once more, after being
 dried up for so long.
  
 Pym stood in the darkness of the King's chamber. He could hear him
 breathing slowly, rhythmically, like an animal in its lair. Should he
 speak?  he wondered. Should he wait until addressed?
  
 The moment stretched to an awkward length and still the King said
 nothing. Pym cleared his throat hesitantly. He waited.
  
 "Well?" asked a voice out of the darkness. The voice rasped like the
 voice of an old man. "What do you want?"
  
 The Sword and Uu Flame
  
 *Tve come ..." began Pym.
  
 But before be could continue the King shouted at him, "I do not care
 why you have come! Go away and leave me!"
  
 The tinker saw the hulking form before him suddenly lurch to its feet
 and stagger toward him. He took a frightened step back. "Sire, I meant
 no harm. I meant "
  
 "Gel Out of here! Can you not see I want to be left alone
  
 Pym made a move toward the door.
  
 Nol Wait! You have news of my son?" The Dragon King asked. He came
 near and gripped the tinker by his shoulders, blowing his breath in the
 man's face.
  
 Pym recoiled from the grasp and from the King's foul breath. "Nay! I
 have no sech news," Pym managed to stammer.
  
 "Ach!" cried the King, and released him with a shove that sent him
 flying.
  
 Pym slammed against the door and stayed there, petrified. Surely the
 King would not kill him, would he?"
  
 "What is it?" spat the King savagely. "Well? Tell me! Have you lost
 your tongue?"
  
 Before Pym could reply, there came a hasty knock behind him and the
 door was shoved open, sending the tinker sprawling.
  
 "Sire! Come quickly. Something is happening! Trouble, Your Majesty.
 Come quickly."
  
 In the light from the open door Pym saw the King face as gray as ashes,
 dark circles under his eyes, cheeks sunken and hollow. He looked like
 a wraith who had come back from the grave, not a flesh and-bone man with
 warm blood in his veins. Was this the great Dragon King?
  
 Without a second glance, the King swept by him and out the door. Pym
 scrambled to his feet and peered through the doorway. There were other
 voices now ringing down the corridors. Pym paid them no attention, his
 only thought was to leave at once and get as far away as possible
 before the King came back and found him still there.
  
 He crept out of the chamber and back along the now-deserted passageways
 of the castle, coming at length to the entrance. He stepped out into a
 cool night, bright with stars. Tip lay waiting for him with head on
 paws.
  
 "It's home fer we 'uns. Tipper," said Pym, still shaken by what had
 happened to him. Tip wagged her tail. "Back f the Gray Goose we go
 right enough."
  
 He cast a last look behind him and then made his way across the inner
 ward yard and through the gate into the outer ward yard and toward the
 castle gatehouse. The great gates were closed, but a keeper stood near
 the smaller door, which was still open within the larger.
  
 Pym said nothing, but hurried on by, through the gatehouse tunnel, lit
 with torchlight, and onto the huge drawbridge. Upon reaching the ramp
 he slowed, feeling like a malefactor escaped from the castle dungeons
 to freedom. He walked along the streets and as he turned toward the
 inn heard a rumbling like the sound of distant thunder carried on the
 wind. He stopped and listened.
  
 A group of men came around the corner a dozen or more, shouting loudly
 and-carrying oily, smoking torches. They brushed by him in the narrow
 street, hurrying away. One look at their wild, twisted faces, and Pym
 knew that they meant no one any good.
  
 He shivered as he watched the men disappear down a side street. Shouts
 echoed in the empty streets afar off. Pym shook hisfaead dismally.
 "Aye, there be trouble. Tip. Master Oswald spoke I aright. Come
 along, old girl. "Tis no night fer we 'uns to be about."
  
 They hurried back to the Gray Goose. In the distance the rumbling
 could still be heard intermittently; not thunder now, but the drums of
 battle just before the inevitable clash.
  
 THIRTY-ONE
  
 BY THE time Theido reached the site with his small force of knights,
 the destruction was almost complete. Three walls had been toppled, and
 the fourth was wobbling under the stress of ropes and poles in the
 hands of scores of frenzied townspeople.
  
 "My lord, we have come too late," said the knight at Theido's right
 hand. His face flickered in the blaze of torchlight around them. "Do
 you want us to disperse them?"
  
 Theido watched the men screaming and leaping to their task, obviously
 caught in the rage of destruction. At that moment the upper layer of
 stones on the last wall gave way and tumbled to the earth thudding with
 such force that the ground shook and reverberated like a drum.
  
 "No, not yet," replied Theido. "Someone could get hurt. I do not want
 anyone killed, the damage is already done."
  
 "We should do something," the knight insisted. "The Ring's Temple...."
  His voice trailed off as he gestured hopelessly to the ruin.
  
 "What would you have us do?" snapped Theido angrily. "The deed is
 done! Broken heads will not save anything. Look at them out there the
 whole town has gone mad!" Theido stared into the mob. Ropes snaked
 out through the air, poles thrust against stone, shouts became a
 growling chant as another whole section of the wall caved in. A cheer
 went up. It was the cry of a beast.
  
 Theido said wearily, "Send the men around the perimeter to ring them
 in. When it is done, disperse them. We will not have this insanity
 spread. Do not hesitate to use the fiat of your swords. But I want no
 unnecessary hurt done to anyone is that understood?" The knight nodded.
  "See to it, then. I am returning at once to the castle."
  
 From the high battlements Quentin watched the assault on his new temple
 in mute agony. The hill on which the temple was being constructed
 blazed with torchlight, and he could hear the shouts of the townspeople
 clearly in the night air, though the building site lay some distance
 away from the castle. He saw the churning mass around the walls, and
 he saw the stones of his great temple fall.
  
 Those around the King held their tongues, afraid to speak, fearful of
 what he might do. The cold, unnatural light on his haggard face
 created a ferocious, almost savage aspect. Muscles tense, limbs rigid,
 the veins in his neck and forehead standing out, eyes starting from his
 head in horror he appeared ready to leap over the
  
 / 879 I
  
 battlements at any moment, or of a disposition to tear the limbs from
 any who came near him.
  
 Quentin stood as stone and watched the desolation of his dream take
 place before his very eyes. With every stone that fell to earth, a
 piece of him was laid waste, and he could do nothing but watch and feel
 the wound in his soul knifing deeper with every section of wall that
 thundered down.
  
 When the last wall came crashing onto the pile of rubble, he turned
 without a word and went back to his chamber. Theido found him there,
 silting in the dark.
  
 Taking a candle from a holder in the outer chamber, the stalwart knight
 approached the King. He lit the candles on the table and several
 others on their stands around the room, moving quietly as if he feared
 disturbing his monarch's meditations.
  
 When he finished, he put his candle in a holder on the table and went

 to stand before the King. Quentin did not look at him; his eyes were
 trained upon a scene far away.
  
 "There was nothing to be done," said Theido gently. "They will be
 dispersed and sent home."
  
 The Dragon King said nothing for a long time. Theido waited, uncertain
 whether the King had heard him or not. Silence stretched Between them
 like a web.
  
 "Why?" asked Quentin at last. His voice was raw. The single word
 spoke volumes of misery.
  
 Theido watched his friend, knowing that he was being devoured inside.
 When the hurt grew too much, the knight looked away. He could think of
 nothing to say which would ease the pain.
  
 "Always before there has been a sign," said Quentin, speaking more to
 himself than to Theido. "Always before the way was shown clearly when
 I most needed to be shown. Always." In the candlelight the years
 seemed to roll away from the King's face. He appeared once more the
 young temple acolyte Theido had met in the hermit's hut so many years
 ago. Even his voice took on the plaintive note of a young boy who had
 lost his way. "Where is he now? Where is the sign? Why has he
 abandoned me?" The words hung in the silence, unanswered.
  
 "I saw it, you know, Theido." Quemin glanced at his friend,
  
 acknowledging him for the first time. The next words were spoken in a
 rush. "I saw it all. In that moment when the Zhaligkeer struck the
 star, when the light of the new age blazed on earth, driving the
 darkness before it 1 saw it."
  
 "What did you see. Sire?" Theido asked the question as one would ask
 a child.
  
 "The temple. The City of Light which I was to build. The Most High
 showed me his Holy City. I felt his hand upon me...." He paused and
 looked at Theido forlornly. "But no more. He has gone from me. I am
 condemned."
  
 "Condemned? Who could condemn you. Sire? Certainly you have ever
 done what the god required. You above all others have lived according
 to his way. Durwin has said you were chosen."
  
 ^Marked, you mean! Marked for failure. Durwin is dead. The god is
 gone from me. I stand condemned by my own hand. I killed him, Theido.
 I did I, the Dragon King, cut him down with as little thought as one
 would give a rabid dog. I killed him, and the Most High punishes me
 with my failure."
  
 Theido could only think it was Durwin that Quentin referred to. "Sire,
 you did not kill him- How can you think such a thing?"
  
 No, it is true! I am telling you the truth!" screamed Quentin,
 throwing himself from his chair. "I killed him, and the flame went
 out! The flame died in my hand! The light is gone, Theido. Gone."
  
 Theido stared at the king, mystified by the outburst. He could make
 nothing of it; it was the incoherent raving of a madman.
  
 Quentin threw his hands over his face. His shoulders started to heave,
 but at first there was no sound. Then Theido heard the sobs come
 forth.
  
 "Darkness," he cried, "all is darkness!"
  
 "Ooo!" Ronsard moaned. He tried to open his eyes. Only one would
 open; the other was swollen shut where he had been kicked He ached in a
 dozen different places, and his ribs sent stabs of pain through him
 with every breath.
  
 "There, now .. . take it easy- Do not be too quick to get up, sir,"
 said the voice in his ear.
  
 Ronsard turned his good eye toward the sound and saw the face of
 Milcher the innkeeper bending over him, holding him by the
  
 / 881 I
  
 shoulders. "The wife has gone to bring a cold cloth for your head.
 Don't you worry, now. Just sit back."
  
 Ronsard looked around the room. Benches were overturned and tables
 stood on edge, but no one remained of the mob that had been there
 before. "Where are they? Where have they gone?"
  
 "I do not know, nor do I want to know." Milcber reached for a jar and
 held it up to Ronsard's lips. "Drink some of this; 'twill clear the
 cobwebs from your head."
  
 Ronsard took the jar and sipped the cool ale, and felt the tingle on
 his tongue. The drink revived him a bit, his head cleared. "Who was
 he?"
  
 "Sir?" Milcher blinked back at him.
  
 "You know who I mean Longbeard. Who is he? Where did he come from?"
 Ronsard made to gel up, but the effort sent pain booming through his
 head. "Ooo!"
  
 "Careful there, sir." Milcher held him under the arms and helped him
 to his feet.
  
 Milcher's round wife returned, sat the knight down in a chair, and
 pressed the cool cloth against his bruised head. Ronsard sipped some
 more ale. "Look at this mess!" She clucked her tongue in disgust.
  
 I "What happened 'ere?" a new voice asked. Ronsard looked up to see
 the tinker enter the inn and come toward him.
  
 "There was a riot," explained Milcher. "They worked themselves into a
 fit a roaring fit! I never have seen a thing like it."
  
 Emm frowned. "And Just the moment my back is turned, too." She said it
 as if her husband was somehow to blame for all that had happened in her
 absence. "This gentleman" she indicated Ronsard "tried to talk sense
 into them, and look what happened. He got his head broken for his
 trouble."
  
 Pym only nodded sadly. Tip held her head to one side and whined
 sympathetically.
  
 "Well," replied Ronsard, "it will not be the first time I nave had head
 broken in the service of the King. Probably not the last time either,
 the truth be known."
  
 "How's that, sir?" asked Milcher suspiciously.
  
 Ronsard remembered his disguise, shrugged, and said, "I am a King's
 man. My name is Ronsard."
  
 "Lord High Marshall!" gasped Milcher. "I remember you."
  
 "No longer but I am on an errand for the King. I meant no harm in my
 deception. I only came to hear the talk here in town and thought that
 tongues would wag more freely than if there was a nobleman about." He
 fixed MUcher with a stern look. "Now, then, what of this Longbeard? I
 would hear all you know."
  
 "There is nothing you have not already heard, good sir. He came here
 much as any stranger might. Drank little, talked to some, and left,
 saying he might be back. He had business that would keep in in Askelon
 a while, he said as I have already told you."
  
 "Then what was that they said" a jerk of his head indicated the now
 nonexistent crowd "all that about "Have you seen him? Did he change his
 mind?" That referred to the King, I'll warrant."
  
 "I know not, sir. I only know what I have told you. An innkeeper
 cannot be responsible for all the talk that goes on within his walls.
 I keep a good house."
  
 "I am certain you do," replied Ronsard. Milcher was getting worked up,
 and he saw no reason to keep at him; the strain of the night's events
 was telling on them all. "I will inquire after this Longbeard
 elsewhere. But you must let me know if you hear anything more."
  
 "He will said Emm darkly, and helped Ronsard to his feet. "Never
 fear, he will. I will see to it."
  
 "I am sorry " Ronsard began.
  
 "No damage done, at least none that cannot be fixed right enough. Get
 you home to bed and give your head a rest," said Milcher, leading him
 to the door.
  
 The knight stepped out into the cool night air. The street was empty
 and very quiet an unnatural quiet, it seemed to Ronsard. He knew that
 some violence had been loosed on the world; he could feel it deep
 within him, as surely as he felt his bruises. He started off down the
 street and then remembered he had left his horse at Milcher's barn
 behind the inn.
  
 THIRTY-TWO
  
 BRIA WAS awake long before the sun rose above the green mountains
 around Dekra. She dressed and went quietly out onto the balcony to
 stand in the liquid dawn, now showing pale gold in the east.
  
 A new day, she thought. What a wonder. Somewhere my child will wake
 to this day. Most High, be with him. Comfort him, and give him
 strength to endure. And give my husband strength as well. Thank you.
 Yes, thank you.
  
 Bria felt with unutterable certainty that her prayer was heard and
 answered even as she spoke. Here in Dekra, she mused, it was easy to
 believe that prayers were always answered. Nothing evil ever touched
 Dekra; it alone remained ever safe from the world's troubles.
  
 They had stayed long with the Elders, praying together. There would be
 more supplications throughout the day and every day thereafter as long
 as they were needed. For that she was grateful, and for the uplifting
 love she felt from the gentle Curatak.
  
 But it seemed strange to be here in this city, Quentin's city, without
 Quentin. Always before they had come together. She smiled as she
 remembered the way he had dashed here and there showing her the things
 he was doing, pointing out all he saw and planned that first time he
 had brought her to Dekra. They were young and in love and soon to be
 married. Quentin was newly crowned and his vision for the realm burned
 in him with such fierceness he could not stand still for a moment They
 had come often in the early days, and then when the first child was
 born they stopped. One child and then another, and then one more... it
 had been a long time since they thought about a trip to the ancient
 ruined city, even though now it could easily be managed since the
 children were old enough.
  
 But Quentin had his temple now. He was so intent upon building it
 throwing all of himself into it that he forgot about Dekra, would have
 forsaken it completely except for Yeseph's death. What a sad time that
 was. If not for Durwin, Bria wondered what Quentin would have done.
 The funeral of the Curatak elder was a simple affair, and not at all
 sad, not in the way one usually thinks of funerals. As with Durwin's
 burial, there had been a pervading sense of relief, even joy. Here was
 a servant of the Most High, finally released to stand in the courts of
 the One, to walk with his Creator and glory in his presence. What
 could be sad about that?
  
 For Quentin, however, it was a time of confusion mostly because
 Yeseph's death was so unexpected. They found him at his table in the
 great library he loved so well, head down upon a manuscript as if
 merely taking a little rest from his work. The day before he had
 spoken with every one of his closest friends, as if he knew that he

 would die soon and wanted to say good-bye to each one.
  
 But Quentin was not there. Yeseph died without seeing Quentin again,
 and it was this, perhaps, that caused Quentin the greatest grief. "I
 should have been with him," Quentin repeated again and again. And as
 often as Bria had pointed out that he had kingly duties and matters of
 state to attend to in Askelon, and that there was no way he could have
 known, Quentin often grew sullen and replied that he had never wanted
 Askelon.
  
 Bria had breathed a great sigh of relief when Quentin began the new
 temple, for almost overnight the old fire was back. But, too, he never
 mentioned Dekra again, at least not in the same way as before.
  
 "Is it really a different place?" The voice behind her started Bria
 out of her reverie. Esme came up to sit beside her on the parapet.
  
 "I did not hear you! I was daydreaming," replied Bria absently. She
 sighed and smiled at her friend.
  
 "Nothing sad, I hope."
  
 "Sad? Why sad?"
  
 Esme shrugged. "The look on. your face seemed sad to me, but surely no
 one in this place is ever sad." She turned her deep brown
  
 / 885 I
  
 eyes upon the Queen. Bria saw the kindled glow in their shaded
 depths.
  
 "Yes, it is a different place," said Bria. "They say it is one of the
 last places of power on the earth, but that, I think, has less to do
 with it than people believe."
  
 "Oh?" Esme put her chin in her hand and gazed dreamily out over the
 glimmering mountainside, the dew beginning to glint in the first rays
 of morning light. "What, then, is it that accounts for what I feel
 here? For there is some glamour here that weaves its magic with the
 soul."
  
 "That is easy," said Bria. "It can be told in one word."
  
 "Then say the word, for I would hear it."
  
  
 "Love."
  
 "Love?"
  
 "Yes, there is a love here which is rarely found on earth. Perhaps in
 families, certainly between a husband and wife on occasion, but almost
 never in the world at large. Love governs everything here.
 Everything. Love and the continually practiced presence of the Most
 High."
  
 Esme glanced at her friend questioningly.
  
 "Yeseph explained it once to me. He said that the Most High is indeed
 ever-present with his creation, with us. But we often lose sight of
 him we fall away from him unless we practice his presence. By that he
 meant we must keep him with us in our thoughts and deeds, lest we
 forget.
  
 "For it is not the One who forgets us, but we forget him. It is how we
 are made, a defect perhaps, but one that makes belief necessary. And
 belief is the Most High's greatest gift. So even there he has rescued
 us."
  
 "Rescued us from ourselves. I see." Esme watched the daylight rise to
 the sky and the night shadows withdraw from the tree-thick lowlands
 like a fine, transparent veil pulled away. "Is it love that transforms
 even the common things the sunrise yonder for one into such works of
 beauty? Is it love that makes me feel as if all my life until now was
 a life lived in shadow?"
  
 "Oh, yes! Love, and knowledge of the Most High."
  
 "But I know very little of the Most High. How can it be that I feel as
 I do?"
  
 TTu Sword and the Flame
  
 "In your hearts of hearts you know him. Durwin used to say that all
 men were born with the knowledge of the Most High in their hearts. The
 trick is to spend more time remembering, and less time forgetting what
 we already know."
  
 "From now on," said Esme resolutely, "I will spend all my time
 remembering."
  
 Quentin rode to the ruins of his temple as soon as it was light enough
 to see. The sky was dark; low gray clouds formed a hard shell over the
 earth, keeping out the sun's light. A misty drizzle feU from the
 clouds and dampened all it touched.
  
 Though Quentin already knew what he would find when he reached the
 site, he was still stunned when he viewed the finality of the
 destruction.
  
 Not one stone was left standing upon another. The walls had been
 pushed inward on top of one another whole sections of quarried rock,
 all toppled, crumbled, and broken by the force of stone crushing stone.
 The wooden scaffolding and wall supports were splintered kindling.
 Here and there a jagged beam poked out of the debris, snapped like a
 twig trodden underfoot. The gray-white rubble lay in a great heaped
 mound like a huge grave, the grave of '," the Most High. Or a grave
 for a King. 1
  
 Quentin waded into the ruins, stepping over fallen rock, climbing onto
 the mound. Scattered in amongst the wreckage he saw tools a
 stonecutter's axe, a mason's trowel, a level, the tools were undamaged.
  Surely there was a lesson in that, but what it could be escaped him.
  
 When he reached the center of the mound, he stood and surveyed the
 damage. It was complete, save for a single column as tall as a man
 that had marked an outside corner of the temple. Quentin picked his
 way to this lone surviving remnant of his dream, looked at it sadly,
 placed his hands on it, and felt the cool, smooth surface.
  
 How was it still standing? How had it been saved? Most likely it had
 merely been overlooked in the fever of destruction.
  
 Quentin leaned against the column, pushing his full weight into it,
 straining against it until the column groaned, tilted, and toppled into
 the pile. The stones broke apart and rolled with a dull thudding to
 their rest.
  
 / 887 I
  
 It is done, thought Quentin. The ruin is complete. With that he
 turned away and walked to the place where he had left his horse and
 climbed at once into the saddle without looking back. As he galloped
 down the hill, it started to rain a slow, miserable rain, as if the
 gods ridiculed him by pouring false sympathy over the wreck of his
 once-glorious vision.
  
 As the slanting band of sunlight began its crawl across the floor of
 their cell, Toli got up and began pacing. Prince Gerin still slept
 peacefully, as if he were in his own safe bed in his father's castle.
 Toli watched the boy and smiled, thinking how wonderful to be a child
 and to have only a child's limited tolerance for trouble. Was it that
 their tolerance was so limited, or that their endurance was greater?
 he wondered. Either way, children simply would not allow trouble to
 dominate them for any length of time. They shrugged it off like an
 unwanted cloak on a hot summer's day. When was it that they learned to
 wear that stifling cloak?
  
 Upon waking, a plan had occurred to Toli. He thought about it now,
 thrashing it out in his head, examining it from every possible angle
 until he was certain about it. When at last he had settled himself
 with it, he went to the heavy oaken door of their cell and pounded the
 flat of his hand against it. He waited and pounded again.
  
 In a moment he heard someone hastening to the cell. "What is it? Be
 quiet," said the voice on the other side.
  
 "I demand to see the High Priest!"
  
 "No! Be quiet I have my orders."
  
 "I demand to see the High Priest! As a prisoner within his walls it is
 my right!" Toli began pounding on the door once more.
  
 "Be quiet, do you bear? You will get us both into trouble. Shut up!"
 The man's tone was frightened.
  
 "I demand to see " Toli began, but stopped when he heard the bolt
 sliding away.
  
 The door creaked on its iron hinges and opened a crack, into which a
 temple guard thrust his head. His sleep-swollen face glared angrily at
 the captive. "Shut up! Do you want to wake the whole temple and get
 me in trouble?"
  
 With the quickness of a cat, Toli sprang forth and shut the door,
 pinching the guard's head between the door and the jamb post. "Ach!"
 said the guard as the door squeezed his neck.
  
 "Now you shut up and listen!" instructed Toli firmly. "If you value
 your worthless head, you will do as I say. I want to see the High
 Priest at once. Arrange it. Do you hear me?"
  
 "Ugh ... what if I refuse?" the man gasped.
  
 Toli pressed the door more tightly against his neck; he heard the
 guard's hands scrabbling for a hold on the other side. "Then," he
 answered, "I will be waiting for you when you come with the food next
 time. And the next time I will crush your throat with this door."
  
 "Gack!" the man croaked. "Let me go-I will do it!"
  
 "Good. You had better, or next time.. .." He let the threat trail
 off.
  
 The guard made a face and Toli slowly eased the pressure, backing away
 from the door. The man wasted no time in pulling his head free,
 slamming the door, and ramming the bolt home.
  
 Toli heard the man's bare feet slapping the stone as he hurried away,
 and felt he had won his way. Yes, the guard was a coward and would do
 what he was told. Of that he was certain. But the High Priest? He
 would not be so easily persuaded. The man was as oily as the sacred
 stone the priests so diligently anointed. He would have to be dealt
 with in a different way entirely: not with threats, but with promises.
 And Toli knew what he would promise.
  
 THIRTY-THREE
  
 "IT is just as we feared," said Theido. "They have come in force."
  
 "How many?" asked Ronsard. His cheek was purplish-black from a bruise
 below his left eye. He held himself stiffly, for his muscles ached.
  
 / 889 I
  
 "Six. And they have ridden all night, by the look of them." The tall
 knight spoke softly though the door to the council chamber was closed
 and the guests within could not hear.
  
 "They did not waste any time," sneered Ronsard. "They are carrion
 birds, Theido vultures come to feed on the flesh of the suffering." He
 shot an angry look through the stone wall to those who had just arrived
 and were waiting inside. "What are we going to do? The King cannot
 attend them; that is out of the question in his present condition."
  
 "Perhaps," replied Theido thoughtfully.
  
 "You cannot be serious! Are you thinking of allowing the King to face
 them?"
  
 "It might do him good. A round with those jackals might shock him out
 of his despair.
  
 "It might crush what link is left of his spirit, too."
  
 Theido nodded gravely. "You could be right. But I do not know what
 else to do. We cannot keep them waiting in there forever. They will
 see the King soon or late; we cannot prevent it. I am afraid Quentin
 has no choice but to face them."
  
 "He might succumb...."
  
 "Not to them." Theido jerked his head toward the council chamber door.
 "Not like this. But they have the power to convene a Council of
 Regents. If they sway but five more to their cause, it could be
 done."
  
 Ronsard nodded gravely. "Has such a thing ever been accomplished?"
  
 "Not in recent memory but yes. Once or twice. They would declare the
 King incompetent "
  
 "As of now that would not be difficult."
  
 "And they would have to join forces behind one of their own number.
 That might prove more difficult getting them all to agree on who the
 new King should be. There are many proud lords who believe themselves
 the only reasonable choice."
  
 "We have an ally in vanity thank the Most High for that!"
  
 Theido nodded and ran his hand through his hair with the air of a man
 who does not welcome taking the next necessary, and possibly fatal,
 step across a treacherous bridge.
  
 "Go on," nudged Ronsard. "It must be done. I will wait here and keep
 an eye on them until you return
  
 "And pray, Ronsard. Pray the King has enough wits about him to fend
 off this attack."
  
 Pym walked along more quickly for the lack of his usual baggage, but he
 missed the bang and clang of his pots and tools his own musical
 accompaniment wherever he went. He wiped the damp from his face. At
 least the rain had stopped, and the sky showed signs of clearing before
 long; it was already shining blue away to the east.
  
 "Ah, Tip, d' ye see?" said the tinker. "We 'uns*ll have the sun soon
 enough. Yes, sir. Won't have to walk in the rain no more, eh?"
  
 The black dog raised her head to her master and barked once to show
 that she was glad to be traveling again.
  
 "Yes, fearful it were. Tip. Fearful, I tell ye. Ye should'a seen the
 Ring should'a seen him. All dark and broken was he, more monster than
 man to look at him. Niwer seen abody looked like that! No, sir.
 Niwer have. Tip. Him locked away in his own chambers a prisner.
 That's what he were a prisner."
  
 Pym*s eyes grew round as he remembered his audience with the Dragon
 King. "What could make a man like that. Tip? I ask ye, what could
 make him like that? 1*11 tell ye that sword! Yes. The loss of it
 drives him mad. I know it, yes I dp. Don't I, Tip? Yes, sir.
  
 "He's lost this son and now his sword, and it drives him mad as a
 weasle-bit dog. Yes, it does. We 'uns've got to bring the King his
 sword. Tip. The sword we found, it must be his or, if not, mayhaps
 'twill do feran other We must bring it to him.  Tip."
  
 The tinker and his dog had left the Gray Goose after one of Emm's
 delicious breakfasts, and struck off along the southern road to Pelgrin
 and the place Pym had hidden the sword he found in the road.
  
 "The King needs a sword. Tip. We 'uns'll give him a sword, won't we?
 Yes, sir," he said as they strolled along. He had heard that talk in
 the inn and around the town about the King losing his sword and had
 become convinced that the blade he had found in the road belonged to
 the Dragon King. Pym had known it to be a
  
 / 891 I
  
 valuable weapon from the moment he had seen it glimmering in the dust
 of the road. Now he meant to retrieve the sword from its biding place
 and carry it back to the King, that was the message he had meant to
 deliver to His Highness.
  
 "But the King were in a state. Tip. He was. Couldn't talk to him
 raving mad he was. Then Master Oswald come and told us there were
 trouble and I left. I got right out of there. Tip. "Twere no place
 for a tinker. No, sir. Glad to go I was.
  
 "And trouble all right boo! They teared down the King's temple last
 night. Tip. Tumbled the walls to the ground, they did. That's why we
 have to bring back the sword. Tip. The King needs it now, he does.
 He needs it now."
  
 Pym, in his simple way, blamed all the sorry events taking place in the
 kingdom upon the loss of the King's sword. He reasoned that if he
 returned it, all would be made right again somehow. In this belief, he
 was no different than the rest of the common folk of Mensandor, who
 held that the King's power lay in the Shining One and possession of the
 flaming sword gave him the right to rule.
  
 The fact that Eskcvar himself had chosen Quentin as his heir and
 successor had long ceased to have any significance in the popular
 imagination. It was Zhaligkeer, the enchanted sword, that made Quentin
 King. Without the sword ... well, who was to say what might happen?
  
 Toli waited with his back to the door of the cell, watching the oblong
 patch of sunlight as it advanced across the floor. It was starting its
 climb up the further wall before he heard the footsteps of the guard
 returning. Prince Gerin sat dejectedly in the corner of the cell they
 used for their bed, his chin resting in his hands, shoulders rising and
 falling with every breath. "I will return shortly," said Toli.
 "Perhaps with freedom."
  
 The bolt scraped and the hinge creaked, and the guard shoved his foot
 into the crack. "Stay back," Ac guard warned. Toli stepped away from
 the door. "That is better. He will see you now. Follow me and if you
 try any tricks, I have orders to stop you by any means. Hear me?" The
 temple guard rubbed his sore neck, there was a red welt where the door
 had squeezed it earlier.
  
 I hear you," replied Toli, "Take me to the High Priest now."
  
 The guard jerked his head for Toli to march ahead of him, waited behind
 to bolt the door once more when the Jher was out of the cell, and then
 led him off to PluelTs chamber. Another guard had been sent to
 accompany them in case Toli entertained any notions of escape.
  
 Through corridors cool and dank as a dungeon for sunlight had not shown
 inside the temple in a thousand years the guards pushed Toli, until at
 last they came to stand before a wide, arching door. The guard rapped
 once upon the door frame with an iron ring that was attached to a
 sconce. "Enter," said a voice from within.
  
 The guard opened the door and pushed Toli ahead of him into the
 chamber. Pluell waited for them, sitting in a high-backed chair,
 dressed in a priest's robe of fine velvet with his hands folded meekly
 in his lap. "You wish to see me?" he asked. He might have been

 addressing one of his priests who had come seeking guidance in a matter
 of conscience.
  
 "Do not think you can hold yourself above this treason, priest," said
 Toli. He spoke firmly and with authority, and saw the effect of his
 words in the tightening of the skin around the High Priest's eyes.
  
 "Leave us," snapped Pluell to the guards looking oni "Wait outside, but
 do not wander away." When they had gone, he looked at Toli with a long
 appraising glance. "You cannot think that this is any of my doing."
  
 "Snake!" said Toli. "You would do well to abandon your disguise; I
 see through it. You are not an innocent instrument of your god. Your
 hands are as red with the blood of the hermit as those who slew him!"
  
 Pluell stared in sullen silence, then heaved himself out of his chair
 as if it had suddenly become too hot to sit in any longer. "You do not
 know," he cried. "You do not know... If he thought I was even talking
 to you, why, he'd " The High Priest broke off sharply, glanced around
 as if frightened that he had been overheard.
  
 "Who is with you in this?" demanded Toli, taking a step toward the
 priest.
  
 PlueU's hands came up quickly as if to ward off blows. "No I there is
 no one."
  
 I 893 I
  
 "Then you own the deed as yours alone."
  
 "No!" He shot a sly look at the prisoner before him and then seemed to
 remember who he was. "You forget the position you are in," he said in
 a more subdued tone. "I am the High Priest, and you are here under my
 protection."
  
 "Protection!" Toli explained. "You dare abduct the Prince and hold
 the High Minister against his will and call it protection?"
  
 "None of that was my doing," High Priest Pluell retorted. "Have you
 been harmed? Has the boy? No! You see I have protected you."
  
 "Let us go!" Toll's eyes kindled with a fierce inner flame.
  
 Pluell turned away and paced slowly to one of his hanging tapestries as
 if examining it.
  
 "You must know," Toli continued, "that with every moment that passes,
 the King's anger against those who have wronged him grows the stronger.
  It is a fire that will consume all in its path."
  
 Pluell still stared at the arris, but said nothing.
  
 "Think! You can divert some of the King's wrath and lessen the
 severity of his judgment."
  
 "How?" asked Pluell, his voice soft and weak.
  
 "Let us go," said Toli simply. "Let us leave at once."
  
 "So you can tell the King where you have been and who had kept you?
 No! I would be a fool. It has gone too far."
  
 "Not too far not yet. Let us go now. Do you think that the King will
 not soon learn where his son is hidden? His men are searching the hills
 and villages beyond the forest now. They will come to the temple as I
 did." He waited for his words to have effect. "Let us go."
  
 The High Priest seemed on the verge of making a decision and then drew
 back from the course he had chosen. "No," he said again. "I dare not
 let you go."
  
 "Then let the Prince go, at least. I will stay in his place. This the
 King will count to your credit; it will greatly appease him."
  
 Pluell considered this, but hesitated.
  
 Toli pressed his advantage. "Set the boy free. Let him go now before
 the King learns where he is and comes with his knights in force. Free
 the Prince. I will stay; I do not care what happens to me as long as
 the boy is freed safely."
  
 High Priest Pluell turned toward Toli once again; he had made up his
 mind. He opened his mouth to assent to Toll's plan, but before he
 could speak a voice from the door scoffed, "A pretty speech for a Jher
 dog!"
  
 Toli and the priest whirled around; neither had heard anyone enter the
 room. There stood a twisted old man whose face was lined and creased
 as the bark of the oak. White hair started out from his head, and a
 long white beard flowed down his thin chest.
  
 "You wonnt" shouted the old man at the priest as he approached
 menacingly from across the room. "You were about to let the princeling
 go, eh?"
  
 "No! That is, I-"
  
 Toli watched as the mysterious old man advanced on the priest and the
 priest shrank away. Who was this ancient who held such power over the
 High Priest?"
  
 As if reading Toll's thoughts, the stranger stopped and turned to him
 and gave him a flesh-withering grimace. "So? You do not recognize
 your old enemy. But then, you never thought to see me again, did you?
 Look at me!"
  
 The realization struck Toli like the kick of a horse, rocking him back
 on his heels. His mind reeled.
  
 "Nimrood!"
  
 "Yes, Nimrood! Ha, ha! Nimrood has returned to settle his accounts.
 And you will pay for the torment I received at your hands, Jher. Oh,
 yes. You should have killed me when you had the chance long ago, for I
 mean to kill you but not before all Mensandor learns to fear the name
 of Nimrood!"
  
 "The King will stop you. You will fail."
  
 "Oh, I have plans for the King. Great plans. His subjects will see
 him grovel on his knees before me; the whole world will see him
 humbled. Yes, your brave King will lick the dust from my boots; he
 will acknowledge me before his realm." Nimrood threw back his head and
 laughed loud and long, then shouted, "Guards!"
  
 Two temple guards burst into the room, fairly stumbling over themselves
 to obey the summons. "Take the prisoner away," ordered Nimrood. "I
 have finished with him for now. Take him away!"
  
 They seized Toli by the arms and hauled him roughly from the
  
 / 895 I
  
 room and back through the corridors of the temple. Behind them Toli
 could hear the insane cackling laughter of the wicked old sorcerer

 ringing after them down the deserted halls.
  
 Nimrood! thought Toli, still stunned by the knowledge. Nunrood has
 returned!
  
 THIRTY-FOUR
  
 DESPITE THE gnawing ache in his heart and his utter disinterest in
 official duties, Quentin still possessed the foresight to demand that
 the nobles attend him in his throne room, rather than in the council
 room where they were already assembled. In this they would be subtly
 reminded that he was still King; they would come to him and stand below
 him while he sat in his royal seat of authority. They would argue from
 an inferior position.
  
 "So they have come," remarked Quentin when Theido told him. "Yes, I
 will see them, but not yet. Let them wait first."
  
 "Sire, they have been waiting," replied Theido.
  
 "Let them wait a little longer!" he roared, then added in a softer
 tone, "You know why they have come, Theido?" Quentin studied the
 knight. "Yes, of course you know but even you are afraid to say it
 outright. They have come for my crown. So be it
  
 "Sire, you cannot be thinking of giving it to them!"
  
 "I will give them nothing!" muttered Quentin darkly. "If they mean to
 have my crown, they will have to take it by force."
  
 This is more like the Quentin I know, thought Theido. "What is your
 pleasure. Sire?"
  
 "My pleasure?" Quentin spat the words and glared dully at his friend,
 but then said, "I will attend them, but not in council. Bring them to
 the throne room instead. If they have backbone enough for this fight,
 then they will stand on their feet. I will not sit with them and have
 them denounce me to my face."
  
 When the nobles were ushered into the throne room some time later, they
 found the Dragon King waiting for them. And though he appeared gaunt,
 weary, and haggard, his face wore a violent scowl and there was anger
 in his eyes. He called them by name as they entered one by one. "Lord
 Kelkin... Lord ... Lord Edftith..." he intoned, pronouncing each name
 coolly, "Lord Lupoilen, ah yes! ... Lord ... Lord Aineronis, I might
 have guessed you were behind this."
  
 The lords glanced at one another uneasily. Surely their information
 regarding the King's disposition could not be wrong. But the Dragon
 King's demeanor shocked them and made them nervous. What was he up to?
  Did he really know why they had
  
 The noblemen went on one knee before the King', throne. Quentin allowed
 them to kneel, then said, "Oh, do not make a pretenseoldoing you
 Kinghomage... Ak, but it is nor the King you honce--it is his crown."
 With that he lifted the crown from his head and held the thin gold
 circlet before him. "Who would be first to snatch it from me? Well?
 Who among you. wants. it the most, I wonder?"
  
 Guiltily the assembled lords glanced at one another. Lord Ameronis
 found his voice first, rose, and said, "My lord, you apparently
 misapprehend the reason for our audience. We heard the news, and have
 come-"
  
 "Have come to see for yourselves how best to bury your King, is that
 it?"
  
 "No, my lord," replied Ameronis smoothly. "We have come to lend
 whatever aid we may in your time of need."
  
 "Liar!" roared Quentin, gripping the armrests of his throne, ready top
 out upon them. "I know you for what you are! In Eskevar's time you
 played your hand and failed. You think now to try with me."
  
 This outburst brought a ipurmur from the noblemen, who dared stricken
 looks toward their unacknowledged leader. AmerI 897 /
  
 onis, however, appeared unruffled. His voice took on the tone of a
 physician calmly reasoning with a reluctant patient. "You greatly
 misjudge our motives, my lord. We are concerned for your health." He
 looked at his friends for support, and they nodded grimly. "We have
 heard rumors, .... "Rumors. There are always rumors."
  
 "The people say that you are ill, that you have fallen under a spell of
 magic. This concerns us, naturally."
  
 "Naturally," replied Quentin sarcastically.
  
 "We thought merely to ride to Askelon as soon as may be to discern the
 truth of these rumors for ourselves."

  
 "Stop it!" shouted Qitentin, leaping from his throne and starting down
 the steps. He caught himself halfway down and halted. throwing an
 accusing finger in Ameronis' face. "Stop it, I say. I know why you
 have come! Do you think your King blind and feeble-minded? I know why
 you are here: to see a raving madman and to wrangle among yourselves
 for his crown!" He pointed his finger at each one in turn; the finger
 crooked and the hand balled into a fist which he shook defiantly in
 their faces. When he spoke again, his voice was a whisper. "You shall
 not wear this crown, my noble friends. Not one of you." He turned his
 back and ascended once more to the throne.
  
 The lords backed away a pace as if to withdraw all but Amer. onis, who
 was more ambitious and more determined than the rest. "Stay!" he said
 to the others. "We have not yet come to the heart of it." To Quentin
 he said, "Word speeds throughout the land that you have lost your
 sword. I see that you do not wear it."
  
 "Yes," spat the Dragon King bitterly. "Now we come to it."
  
 "Answer me. Where is it?"
  
 "I owe you no answers, Lord Ameronis, pnd will give none."
  
 "Do you deny that it is missing?"
  
 "I deny nothing." The King leveled his piercing glance upon the
 ambitious nobleman.
  
 "It is true then; you no longer possess the Shining One." His words
 were an indictment. "Or prove me wrong and show us the sword."
  
 The Dragon King, lips drawn into a thin, hard line, said nothThe
 Stijord and the Flame
  
 "Very well," said Ameronis to his friends, "you have all seen. He
 refuses to answer for the sword and will not show it. I say that the
 rumors are true, that he does not have it! I say that he who finds the
 sword and holds it is the rightful Dragon King of Mensandor!"
  
 Without waiting for a reply, Ameronis dipped his head curtly and spun
 on his heel. The others, silent all this time, bowed. Lord Edfrlth
 found his tongue and said, "By your leave, Sire." The remaining lords
 started to life, made hasty leave, and marched out. The King was once
 more alone.
  
 "Yes, leave me, you hounds! Go! Follow your chosen leader, and find
 the sword if you can!" Quentin called after them. The huge door
 boomed shut behind them, and the sound filled the near empty throne room
 like the crack of doom, or the axe falling upon the head of a deposed
 King.
  
 A young Curatak girl cleared away the dishes from the women's midday
 meal while Esme, Bra, and Alines talked with Morwenna, Elder Joilen's
 wifa. Over their meal the conversation had touched upon the continuing
 work of the Curatak at Dekra, and the progress being made in restoring
 the ruined city once more to glory.
  
 Bane said little, but found the talk fascinating. She listened
 intently and turned her eyes this way and that over the city from the
 balcony where they sat. Yes, she could almost imagine what it had been
 like, for out of the jumble of stones and pillars there rose wonderfril
 buildings under the hands of skilled ma som and carpenters who worked
 from ancient drawings found in the great Ariga library.
  
 "You must see the library," Morwenna was saying. "I am certain you
 would find it interesting."
  
 "I would very much like to see it," replied Esme at once. "All that I
 have seen of this magnificent city enthralls me."
  
 "If you would like to go there now, I would be most happy to show
 you."
  
 Before Bria could reply Esme said, "Oh, would you? I can think of
 nothing I would rather do!"
  
 "Yes," agreed Bria. "I think I would like to see it once again." She
 made to rise, but Esme was already on her feet. "You and I must hurry,
 Morwenna," laughed ria, "or Bane will be the one to guide us!"
  
 I 899 I
  
 They started off together, walking along the wide winding cobbled
 streets of Dekra. Grass grew thick and green between the stones, and
 moss roses of pink and yellow poked up through chinks in the paving.
 Blue-feathered birds hopped along the tile rooftops, or flitted from
 street to eaves as the ladies passed.
  
 "Is the library as large u men say it is?" asked Em. They had turned
 and passed beneath a standing arch which stood before a narrow
 courtyard lined with doorways opening onto a common area dotted with
 neatly pruned trees and small stone benches.
  
 "That you must decide for yourself," replied Morwenna. "I do not know
 what men say of the Ariga library, but the Ariga were very fond of
 books and were great scholars." She waved her hand to include the
 whole courtyard. "There are thousands of books here."
  
 Em blinked and looked around. "Here? Where? I see no building
 capable of holding even a hundred books, let alone thousands."
  
 Morwenna smiled and Bria explained, "You are standing on the library,
 Esme. It is underground."
  
 "The entrance is there." Morwenna pointed across the courtyard to a
 wide arched doorway bei ween two slim poplar, standing guard before it.
 They crossed the commons and entered a great circular room of
 glistening white marble. On the walls were murals of imposing robed
 figures who watched the visitors with large, dark, serious eyes.
 "These we believe are some of the more renowned Ariga leaders, or
 perhaps the curators of the library."
  
 "Where is the entrance?"
  
 "Beneath that arch," said Morwenna. "Come." She led them to where the
 marble steps descended into the underground chamber and pointed into
 the darkness. "There it is. Esme, would you like to lead the way?"
  
 Esme peered doubtfully into the darkened stairwell, but gamely placed
 her foot on the first step. Instantly the stairs were lit from either
 side. "Ohi" she cried in surprise.
  
 "Mine was the same reaction when Quentin showed me," laughed Brie. "It
 does seem most magicaL"
  
 "Indeed!" ca fled Esme, already springing down the steps to the chamber
 beyond.
  
 When the Queen and Morwenna caught up with Esme, she was
  
 Th. Sweat and the Flame standing at the bottom of the stairs, gazing
 with open mouth at row upon row of towering shelves, each shelf bearing
 the weight of damns of scrolls. Young men moved between the shelves
 with armloads of books, taking scrolls from among the shelves, or
 replacing the
  
 "These are our scholars," explained Morwenna. "We are translating the
 books. All we have learned about the Most High we owe to our scholars.
  The teachings of the Ariga are contained in the books."
  
 "They are priests, then, your scholars?"
  
 "Yes, but not the way you mean, Lady Eame. The Ariga believed, and so
 do we, that the God Most High dwelt among his people and permeated all
 of life with his presence. Therefore there was no need for a separate
 priesthood each man could be his own priest."
  
 Em cocked her head in an attitude of puzzlement. "That must be very
 confusing."
  
 "Not at aID Though I will admit that it does require men to take
 responsibility for learning the ways of the god and living before him
 accordingly. This is why we have elders, to help us and instruot us
 and lead our worship of the Most High, Whist Orren."."
  
 The three began to walk along the rows of shelves in the immasse
 underground chamber. Em had expected a dark and musty dungeon like
 place, and was surprised to discover how dry and pleasant the immense
 library was. As the other two talked, she wandered alone among the
 books, stopping now and then to finger an interesting scroll, or to try
 to make out the words written on the hanging ribbon that identified
 each one. The words, though she could not read them, charmed and
 fascinated her, so gracefully were they written.
  
 She came to a nook lined with more honeycombed shelves containing
 extremely large scrolls rolled in fine red leather. A low wooden bench
 sat within the nook, so Esme, feeling herself invited, stepped in and
 withdrew one of the bound scrolls and settled herself on the bench to
 unroll it.

  
 She could still hear Bria and Morwenna talking in low tones nearby, so
 she thought she would take a quick look at the book for curiosity's
 sake. It was bound with a leather thong, which she 1901/
  
 untied; then she carefully drew off the cover to reveal a fine white
 parchment, yellowed at the edges with age, but undamaged fur its years.
 With trembling fingers Em took up the carven wooden knob at the end of
 the rod and began to unroll the scrolL She held her breath, for there
 before her eyes were the most beautiful drawings she had ever seen.
  
 The drawings, she guessed, were illustrations taken from the
 accompanying text, for beneath each was a double column of the
 wonderful Ariga script. Each illustration had been rendered in
 delicate colored inks, the colors scarcely faded since the artist had
 dipped his brush to them long ago. There were exquisite renderings of
 tiny colored birds and forest creatures, depictions of everyday life in
 the Dkra streets, a long scene of a river alive with fish of many
 different kinds, and qusint little boats with fishermen in them trying
 to catch the creatures with nets, and many other delightful images.
  
 Em gazed at the scroll in rapt wonder, feeling as if she were a child
 once again and had been given a rare and costly gift of a book from a
 far-off land. As a little girl growing up on her father's house, she
 had had many picture books which she loved dearly and pestered her
 nurses to read to her constantly. At this moment she entered once
 again into that special time. Her surroundings faded from view, and
 she became once more the little girl transported to a distant time and
 place.
  
 THIRTY-Fl VS
  
 Wimit umrri returned to his apartments, he found Oswald the Younger
 waiting for- him in the antechamber. One glance at his servant's
 deathly pallor told him that some dire event had overtaken them which
 he now must hear. The Swd and die Flame
  
 "Well, what is it?" the King demanded. Theido entered behind him at
 that moment and Oswald, relieved not to have to deal with his
 foul-humored monarch alone, breathed more easily. He shot a worried
 glance at the gaunt knight, who returned it with a nod as if to say
 "proceed."
  
 "I am waiting," said Quentin. "Out with it!" He then saw the flat,
 folded packet the chamberlain carried and snatched it out of his
 hand.
  
 "It came only a moment ago," said Oswald, fear making his voice hollow.
  "A messenger, Sire."
  
 "Whose messenger?" Quentin raised the packet and studied the seal.
 "The High Priest?"
  
 "He did not say, Sire. I thought it from one of the noblemen, but.."
 he was already gone when I saw the seal."
  
 Embossed in green wax at the fold of the message was the cipher Quentin
 knew welL the bowl with tongues of fire above, the symbol of the High
 Temple employed by the High Priest.
  
 The King broke the seal and tore into the packet, unwrapping it to find
 a lock of hair, a bit of blue cloth, and a note. Theido stepped close
 and Quentin, staring at the objects he held in his hand, thrust the
 note at him. "Here, read it!"
  
 Theido took the note and opened it. With an effort he held his voice
 steady as he began to read
  
 Your son is well for the present. What happens to him now re maim for
 you to decide. We are holding him captive within the High Temple, and
 are prepared to release both the Prince and the Lord High Minister Toli
 upon receiving your sword, Zhaligkeer, called the Shining One. You are
 required to surrender the sword in person to the High Temple at midday
 on the last day of this month, or the Prince and the High Minister will
 be killed in that same hour.
  
 "Is that all?" asked Quentin, his tone hard and flat.
  
 "There is no signature," replied Theido.
  
 "The messenger is go nep you tay?"
  
 / 903 I
  
 "Yes, Sire, gone before I could stop him." Oswald looked helplessly
 at Theido, who watched the King closely, fearing what he might do. "I
 sent one of the gate men after him, L..
  
 "He must be found put more men on his trail." Quentin turned, and his
 eyes held a distant look. "Leave me now. Both of you.
  
 "I would stay, Sire," replied Theido. "Allow me to help "
  
 "No! Go and find that snake of a messenger if you would help. Leave
 me!"
  
 Without another word Theido and Oswald left the antechamber, shutting
 the door quietly behind them. "What are we going to do?" whispered
 Oswald fearfully.
  
 "Do as he says," replied Theido absently. He was already deep in
 thought at the unexpected appearance of the ransom note. "Find the
 messenger. He cannot have gone far. I will send some men to you at
 once."
  
 "What are you going to do, my lord?"
  
 Theido glanced up quickly. "Do not worry after me! Get moving!
 Hurry!"
  
 Oswald opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, and closed his
 mouth again with a snap. Theido called after him as he dashed away,
 "Oswald." Tell no one what was in the note. Do you hear? Repeat to
 no one what you heard in the King's presence." Oswald nodded and
 scurried away as fast as his feet would take him.
  
 "Now, to work," said Theido to himself, taking the folded message once
 more from his hand where he had hidden it. "Ronsard must see this."
  
 "The viper's brood!" exclaimed Ronsard as he quickly scanned the
 ransom letter once again. "The cold-blooded arrogance! We should pull
 down that serpent's nest upon their wicked heads!"
  
 "And upon the heads of Toli and the Prince as well?" replied Theido.
 "No, they have doubtless considered that in their plan, my friend.
 They know that as long as the King's own son is tucked out of sight
 within their walls, the King can do nothing against them."
  
 "Then what can be done?" asked Rousard, raising hopeless eyes from the
 crumpled message in his fist.
  
 "Find the sword," said Theido.
  
 "Aye, find the sword. The whole kingdom will soon be searching for the
 Shining One if not already!"
  
 "We must pray, brave sir, that we are the first to find it and soon.
 You saw the date? Only five days hence."
  
 "Little enough time to scour the whole kingdom we'd have a better
 chance of finding a pearl in a pigsty!"
  
 "Then we waste time talking. Assemble the men at once every household
 in Askelon, and the villages beyond, must be searched."
  
 "If we do that, the whole world will know the King has lost his
 sword."
  
 "He will lose his son and servant if we do not. The world will know
 soon enough anyway, my friend. Lord Ameronis will see to that!"
  
 Ronsard nodded sadly. "We must pray that there are still those loyal
 to the Dragon King. We can count on the common folk to help, I
 think."
  
 Theido turned to leave and replied, "The common folk destroyed the
 King's temple not two nights ago, remember. We may have a difficult
 time convincing them top him now. But we shall do what we can."
  
 Esme still sat with the scroll in her lap, her eyes drinking in the
 marvel of the colored drawings of the Ariga book. As she studied the
 tiny intricacies of each picture, she began to grow sleepy. Though Bria
 and Morwenna still talked somewhere nearby, from her nook Esme could
 not see them, and their voices began to drone like the buzzing of
 pollen-laden bees on a lazy summer day.
  
 She yawned, suddenly overcome by the need tolp, as if a thick, woolen
 blanket had been drawn over her. She yawned again, lay the scroll on
 the floor at her feet, and then stretched herself on the bench, her
 cheek resting on her arm. Her eyes closed, and she was instantly
 asleep.
  
 To Esme it seemed as if she had entered another world as soon as her
 eyes closed upon this one, for she found herself standing atop a high
 plateau in a dark and featureless land. She turned and saw men
 laboring nearby, bearing heavy burdens on their backs, passing by her
 to the very edge of the plateau. She followed at a distance
  
 I 905 I
  
 and soon came to a great pyre; the men carried bundles of firewood
 which they dumped onto the mound and then took their places in a ring
 around it.
  
 Next to the pyre stood a man with a torch in his hand. When all had
 thrown their wood upon the stack, the torch man thrust his torch into
 the under; but though the flames from the torch licked out and leaped
 among the ricks, the fuel did not ignite. The torch man withdrew his
 flame in frustration and called out, "More wood!" The laborers
 disappeared in search of more firewood, leaving Esme alone with the
 torch man
  
 "What are you doing, sir?" Esme asked.
  
 "I am building a beacon fire," answered the torcbman, "that the people
 of the valley may see it, for they travel in darkness with no signal to
 guide them."
  
 "Why did you not light the signal, then?"
  
 "I have tried, but thefuelisold and damp andwillnotcatch," the torch man
 told her sadly. "I have called for more wood, but it is sure to be too
 wet as well."
  
 Esme was overcome with the utter futility of the enterprise and turned
 away. once the landscape shifted. The dark land faded, and she found
 herself on a cliff near the sea where the waves rolled endlessly,
 tearing themselves against the rocks and washing onto the shore with a
 sigh. She looked and saw a tower rising up and workmen on scaffolds
 laying stoxe, building the tower higher.
  
 She moved closer and watched as the masons raised row upon row of
 stonework, while the quarry men piled fresh materials beneath them on
 the ground. Then, without warning, a portion of the wall leaned out
 precariously and split away from the tower wall. The men on the
 scaffolding screamed in terror as the stone rained down.
  
 The whole tower quivered, and portions began crumbling swaT, the
 workmen leaped from the scaffold and ran to get clear of the falling
 rock as the walls collapsed with a thunderous crash and stone plunged
 into the sea.
  
 When the catastrophe was over, Esme approached the ruin and spoke to
 one of the workmen. "Why did the tower fall?" she asked.
  
 He shook his head and pointed with his finger. "See, the foundation is
 old and soft; it crumbles away when we build on it." The Sword and that
 Flame
  
 "If the old foundation will not hold, why do you not build a new
 foundation?" It seemed obvious to Esme, though she knew little about
 such matters.
  
 But the workman threw up his hands and wailed, "We have no master to
 show us how to lay a new foundation!"
  
 "Where is your master mason?" Esme glanced around and saw no one who
 seemed prepared to assume leadership of the workmen. The man did not
 answer, only shrugged and shook his head. So Esme told him, "I will
 find a master mason who will show you how to build aright, and I will
 bring him to you " Esme stopped speaking, for the workman and the tower
 had vanished like smoke on the wind, and she stood now not on a cliff
 by the sea, but ins busy marketplace where farmers sold their produce
 and merchants their wares.
  
 The market bustled with buyers and sellers, and she heard around her
 the babble of voices haggling over prices and the quality of goods
 bought and sold. She passed by the butcher's stall and saw him cutting
 up a carcass, slicing meat from a large bone. With a wink to her, the
 butcher, dressed ins long dark robe, took the bone and tossed it out of
 the stall where instantly it was pounced upon by hungry dogs who came
 running from every corner of the marketplace.
  
 The dogs fell upon the bone and began fighting over it, first one dog
 snapping at it, then another. One dog would succeed in snatching it up
 in his jaws, only to have it taken away by another, larger dog.
  
 A crowd gathered to watch the fight as savage snarls and growls filled
 the air. "Stop it!" shouted Esme. " lease, somebody stop it!"
  
 But the onlookers did not heed her, and the dogs fought ever more
 fiercely. She buried her face in her hands and turned away, but the
 terrible sounds grew louder and when she looked again she saw not a
 long, clean length of bone on the ground, a square of cloth in the jaws
 of the dogs. Each had a corner of the cloth and was pulling on it,
 worrying it in his teeth in furious effort to free the cloth from the
 other dogs. And on the cloth Esme saw a device: a red writhing
 dragon.
  
 "Stop it!" she cried. "Stop!" THIRTh SIX
  
 "BLESs ME bones, Tip, but this trip is fert her than I remember, eh?
 Yes, quite right. It always seems fert her when ye're in a hurry.
 Quite right." Pym cocked an eye skyward and gauged the day by the sun.
 "Nearing middle day Tip. Right enough, an' I'm hungry. We unsought to athought to bring a bite to eat. Some of Emm's fresh-baked
 bread and a noggin of the dark would hit the spot, eli? And a soup
 bone for ye, Tipper. Yes."
  
 The black dog wagged her tail to the sound of her master's voice and
 walked along beside him, lifting her ears now and then when a rabbit or
 squirrel rustled the leaves of a holly bush near the road as they
 passed. But Tip did not give chase, content merely to pad peacefully
 alongside her master, to press her head into his hand now and then to
 receive a loving pat on her head or a scratch between her ears.
  
 Presently they came to a place in the road that looked to the 2tinker
 somehow familiar. "Ho there, Tip. This be the pIece, I'll warrant.
 What say ye? Looks the place to me, eli? Yes, it does." Pym gave a
 quick glance both directions along the road to see if he bad been
 followed, or if any other travelers were about to see him.
  
 They were alone, so he stepped quickly into the forest, pushing through
 a yew thicket to where the forest thinned somewhat and a trail wound
 among the trunks of trees.
  
 "Is this the place, Tip?" I tell ye, I don't know. Thought twas, I
 did. Now mm not acertain." After some time wandering among the trees,
 Pym decided that they had not remembered the right place after all and
 so retraced his steps to the road once more and set off. The Sv.toni
 and tiw Thm
  
 "Alt!" he cried a little further down the way. "This must be it! Yes,
 how could I forget?" Again they pushed into the forest only to become
 disoriented before going very far. "No, sir." Pym stood with hand on
 hips, craning his neck up at the tall trees surrounding him. "
 Tweren't here. This's nivver the place, Tipper. Back we go.
  
 The noonday sun shone down through the interwoven branches above,
 casting a fretwork of cool shadow upon them as they trudged down the
 bare earth road yet again. The further they went, the less certain the
 tinker became. "I don't know how I'll iv ver find it, Tip. I don't
 seem to recall the place iiverthing looks so unlikely hereabouts." He
 stopped and stared around him. "I don't know what to do, Tip. What we
 urn need is a sign. That's it, yes*ir. A sign!"
  
 So taken was he with the notion of a sign that Pym clasped his hands
 right then and there and raised them up to the heavens. "Here me, ye
 gods!" At a sudden thought he added, " Specially whativver god it is
 the Dragon King serves. I'll war rent ye'd be more concerned with the
 King, so hear me, whativver yer name might be."
  
 Pym paused here to consider how to proceed, nodded to himself; and then
 continued, "Ye see, the King has lost his son snatched away he were,
 yes. And he needs his sword to get the boy back with. Now, I don't
 know feracertain that the swoni we urn found belongs to the King, but
 might do 'tis a han4.qme sword.
  
 "Now," eiplained Pym carefully, "I have put this sword by in a safely
 place, ye see. Trouble is, I can't remember me where. Don't recognize
 the place no more, ye we and me who's been at raveling this road fera
 score of years, too. That's why I am calling on ye fer topI need a
 sign to show the way to the sword where I left it, that is."
  
 The tinker lowered his hands, thought fur a moment, then raised them
 again and added, "It's not ferme, it's fer the King, ye see. He's in
 trouble bad, he is, and likely needs his sword leastwise it couldn't
 hurt. Since yer his god, maybe ye could send the sign. That is, ifye
 have a care fer mortal troubles."
  
 Pym stopped speaking and lowered his hands. "Well, Tip. /909/
  
 per " he began, but before he could finish the big black dog began
 barking. "Shhi What is it, lady girl? Elt, Tip? What is it?"
  
 Out from an immense gorse hedge stepped a black stag. Tip barked
 furiously, but the deer, moving slowly, regally, head high and antlers
 glinting in the sun like silver, remained calm and unperturbed The
 graceful animal crossed the road, passing not more th anTa dozen paces
 in front of them, and then stopped to look at the man and dog watching
 him.
  
 Tip barked, her tongue hanging sideways out of her mouth, tegs still
 hackles raised. Pym laid a hand to her collar. The stag moved with
 lordly pomp once more into the forest, paused to eye the spectators one
 last time as much as to say, "Follow me, if you dare" then lifted its
 forelegs over abayberry bush and leapt away, its tail bobbing white
 behind.
  
 Tip could not stay still any longer. She barked wildly and shook her
 head, pulling free of her master's grip the chase was on. "Tip! Come
 back here!" shouted Pym after the bounding dog. Tip reached the
 bayberry bush, paused top once at her master, and then wriggled through
 the bush and after the deer.
  
 "By the gods' beards!" muttered Pyni, "I don't know what's come on
 that dog." He could hear Tip yelping excitedly as she crashed through
 the brush after her game. Pym sighed and trudged sif into the woods to
 retrieve his pet, knowing she could never catch the stag but would not
 give up easily.
  
 He shrugged through the brush and stumbled into the trail, hastening
 after the sounds oi the impromptu hunt. The trail widened as he went
 along, broadening as it reached a place where giant 61d trees grew
 tall, clearing all other trees from beneath their overarching limbs:
 huge old chestnuts, oaks, and hickories. He did not stop to gawk at
 the trees, but rushed along head down, calling for Tip to come back.
 Then, without warning, the dog's yapping ceased. Pym plunged down a
 shallow bank and through a patch of creeing ivy and glance4 to find
 himself in a secluded hollow.
  
 Before him, on her haunches, sat Tip, wagging her tail and panting. A
 little way off from them stood the stag, head lifted high, bearing its
 crown of antlers as regally as any King, gazing calmly at them with its
 great dark liquid eyes. As the tinker watched, the stag The SwoTd and
 the Flame lifted a hoof and nudged a stone at its feet a white stone
 from a neat little pile of white stones.
  
 Tipper," whispered Pym, hardly breathing. "lookee there! The stag has
 led us to our spod"
  
 The deer turned and regarded them casually once more, then lowered his
 head and trotted smoothly away, his flowing shape blending with the
 forest around him and vanishing from sight.
  
 Pym crept forward to the place where the deer had stood. "Yes, sir.
 This be the spot, Tip. Lookee, here's the stones we urn left to mark
 it, and here's the hazelnut." He tilted his head to regard the lofty
 tree, then walked around it to the hole in its hollow trunk. Taking a
 deep breath, Pym thrust his hand through the hole and
  
 His hand closed on thin air. His heart leaped to his throat. Gone, he
 thought. Someone's taken it! He shoved his hand deeper auto the
 hollow space and stretched his fingers, feeling the soft, damp interior
 of the tree, but no sword. Frantically he thrust his arm in again and
 searched the depths of the hidden space, fe ling nothing but the spongy,
 rotten wood. "It's gone, Tip!" he cried hopelessly. "The sword is
 gone!"
  
 Just as he was about to withdraw his arm, the tips of his fingers
 brushed against something hard. "What's this?" he said, and pushed
 his arm back in up to the shoulder, as far as it would go, standing on
 tiptoes, straining so hard that swet beaded up on his face and roiled
 down his neck.
  
 His hand dosed on an object cold an4and. He gulped. Could it be?
 Yes! It was the swordi The tinker wiWrew his hand slowly, and the
 hollow tree gave up its prize , long, narrow bundle wrapped in tatters
 of rags.
  
 "Here tis, Tip! We tins found the sword! Yes, yes! Leokee, Tip, here
 tis at last!" He cradled the bundle to him and then, just to make
 certain, peeked between the tblds of the rags. He saw a dull gleam of
 metal and part of an imcription on the blade. " Tm the veery sword,
 Tip. The veery one as we ma left behind. Yes, sir." He glanced
 guiltily around him like a miser who fears discovery with his treasure.
 "But we tins dare not stay here, no sir. It's back to Askelon and
 give this sword directly into the King's own hand, eh? Quite right,
 yes. Directly into the King's own hand."
  
 I 911 I
  
 So saying, the tinker took a length of twine from his trousers 2pet nd
 wrapped it around sword's concealed loop through which he put his arm.
 He started off at once, slinging the mighty weapon over his shoulder,
 making for Askelon Castle to give his present to the Dragon King.
  
 Some way further ahead on the road to Askelon, where Pelgrin thinned
 and gave way to farmland hills, a brown pony wandered riderless across
 a field of young corn, pausing now and then to nibble at the tender
 tops of the shoulder-high plants. This intrusion did not go unnoticed,
 for a pair of quick, sharp eyes had seen the animal from adistance, and
 the boy who looked out of those eyes was slowly and with utmost caution
 making his way across the field rointercept the horse.
  
 Renny forced himself to steal along stalk by stalk, row by row, all the
 while his heart screaming at him to run and capture the wonderful
 creature before him. A horse! Who would have believed it? A horse
 wandering loose through his father's field. If he could catch it no,
 he wowddcatch it, andthenhewouldhave ahorse ofhisvery own!
  
 Now he was close, very close. The pony stood nipping at the new
 leaves, unaware of the boy'. presence. Renny crept near and waited.
 The brown horse plodded a few steps nearer and paused to -munch some
 unripe ears of corn just forming on the stalk. "Shhh.. .." said the
 boy, as quietly as a sigh. "There, now. Shhh... He put out his hand to
 snag the animal's bridle. Tarky saw the movement, tossed his head up
 quickly, and backed away with a loud whinny. "Easy now," soothed
 Renny. "y... I won't hurt , ee. No need to fear. No harm' il come to
 ee." He approached slowly, the pony backing away step by step, tossing
 his head stubbornly.
  
 Kenny moved closer, whispering endearments to the animal. But Tarky,
 skittish from his days of running wild in the forest, kept just out of
 reach, and at last tired of the game and turned to prance sway. The
 boy realized it was now or never and lunged at the beast, diving
 headlong at it. Tarky gave a startled neigh and dodged away. But the
 youngster, with quick desperation and deft fingers, snatched up the
 dangling reins. The horse neighed in fright and reared, jerking its
 head away; but it was caught in the grasp of a most determined young
 master, and Kenny refused to relinquish his find. He scrinbled to his
 feet and grabbed the bridle, his heart thudding against his ribs with
 excitement.
  
 Then as if he had been doing it all his liLh,the farmer's son led his
 captured prize down the low sloping hillside to the house. Tarky
 gentled under the lad's touch and allowed himself to be led away
 peaceably.
  
 When they reached the rude farmhouse, the boy loosed one wild whoop
 which brought his parents into the yard. "Look what I've got here,"
 Kenny said proudly. "Where did ec get that?" asked his father when he
 recovered from the sight of his son holding a fine horse, both saddled
 and bridled, in his own yard.
  
 "Where on this green earth?" echoed his mother.
  
 "I found him," replied Renny. "Found him eating corn in our field."
  
 The farmer stared speechless at his wife, who returned his look with
 one of equal amazment. If the horse had materialized before them our
 of thin air, they could not have been any more surprised. And there
 stood their own flesh-and-blood son holding this creature-it surpassed
 all belief.
  
 Lest there should be any misunderstanding of his claim or intent, Renny
 announced, "Be's mine. I found him 'ee belongs to me, and I'm keeping
 him."
  
 His father came close and raised his hand to stroke the pony's flank.
 " Tis a fairly fine horse-no doubt. But ee don't belong here."
  
 "Be's mine now." Kenny tightened his grip on the reins and thrust his
 jaw forward with determination. "I'm keeping him," he rapeated
 firmly.
  
 "This be a nobleman's mount," said the farmer, examining now*flne
 leather of the saddle and tack. "Doesn't belong here."
  
 The boy darted a quick glance at his mother for help, his lower lip
 quivering. The kindly woman came close and placed her hand on her
 son's shoulder. "What your father means, Renny,is that this one must
 go back to his rightful owner."
  
 "Sooner the burn;" added the farmer.
  
 I 9)3.1
  
 "I'm his owner now," maintained Benny, his dark eyes filling up with
 tears. " Be's iurm."
  
 "No, son," said his mother gently. She patted the slim shoulders and
 brushed his shock of hair from his eyes. "Someone's bound to oume
 looking for him. If you keep him, they'll take him away.
  
 "Take him by force, they will. Be can't stay."
  
 "But... Ifow,d him!" wailed Benny. The injustice alit stung bitterly.
 To have his horse so swiftly taken from him in the moment of his
 triumph it was too much to bear.
  
 The farmer frowned and turned stiffly away. len ny sobbed and his
 mother soothed, trying to ease the hurt. "I know what ee can do!" she
 said, brightening. "Take the horse to Askelan people there will know
 who his master is. Methinks if'ee return him hasty, there will be a
 reward in it fur ee"
  
 At the mention of the reward Rainy stopped sniffling and rubbed his
 eyes with the heels of his hands. "Reward?"
  
 His father turned mid added, "Why, that's the answer! Take him to
 Askelon and claim your reward. Might bring a coin or two,. fine animal
 like this. A mand be must hearty grateful to et him back, might give a
 good reward."
  
 "I oculd ride him?" asked Kenny tentatively. "Ride him to Askelon?"
  
 The farmer glanced at his wife and scratched his jaw. "Well, now,
 Rainy, I don't be "
  
 "I know how to ride!" Kenny said quickly. "The Dragon King himself
 taught me, remember?"

  
 "By my lights, ee did," agreed his father. "But it's a far ride, and
 you'd have to walk back all alone."
  
 "I don't care," shouted Rainy. "Could I take him? Pleame?"
  
 "If your mother says so, I say so," hedged his father.
  
 The woman looked at the light dancing in her son's eyes and did not
 have the heart to dash it out. She nodded slowly. "I'll fix ee a
 rucksack to take with ee so'see won't get hungry on the way." She
 turned and went into the low-built farmhouse. "in ride him all the
 Askeloni" owed Kenny. "And I'll claim the reward!"
  
 THIR7YSEVEN
  
 "Esiwr !SME, wake up!" Bria exclaimed, shaking the arm of the s!eping
 woman.
  
 "What? Oh!" Esme said, jerking awake with a start. "Oh, my! It was a
 dream!" She turned and gazed at Brisand Morwenna bending over Mer and
 raised a shaking hand to her temple. "I must have fallen ap... but it
 was so real not like any other 4mm I've ever had."
  
 "You cried out." Bria glanced at Morwenna, who nodded and took one of
 Esme's hands in her own.
  
 "We did not know where you had gone, my dear," said Morwenna. "When we
 turned around, you were no longer with us. We were looking for you
 when we heard your cry. How are you feeling now?" isme shook her head
 slowly, but the images of her dream remained as vivid as before. "I
 believe I am well. I was looking at the acures and became sleepy; I
 rested my head on the bench for ant and dreamed a very strange and
 unsettling dream."
  
 Tell usjf you wish," offered Bria. "Can you remember it?" -sme nodded
 vigorously. "I am nor likely to soon forger. I can 1 ace it as if it
 had happened right here moments ago." She #ssed; her eyes looked past
 them and into the world of her dream beagain.
 "Iwasstandingonahighplateau... ."shebegan.But *ora held up her hand.
 tmy Lady," Morwenna said. "There s one among us **bly skilled in the
 unraveling of dreams and their meania1p4me, we will go rn him at once,
 ar4 he must hear your dream."
  
 I 915 I
  
 Esme rose to her feet. "It is important? It was just a dream."
  
 Morwenna stopped and took Esme by both arms. "There are many ways in
 which Whist Orren chooses to speak to his children. Dreams are one of
 his most important means of revealing himself and they are not treated
 lightly in Dekra." She smiled quickly and added, "But come, we will
 hear what our dream reader has to say"
  
 The three left the Ariga library, passing among the tall ranks of
 honeycombed shelves and tables stacked with scrolls, back up the
 stairway and through the narrow courtyard to the street. Morwenna led
 them a little way further along the street to a blue-tiled arch in a
 white brick wall. She pushed open the gate and ushered them into a
 green expanse of garden filled with flowering shrubs ofmanykinth.
  
 "What a wonderful garden," said Bria. "Who lives here?" She indicated
 the tiny house that joined the wall at the far end of the garden
 pathway.
  
 "That you will see soon enough," replied Morwenna. She raised her hand
 toward a huge, spreading sycamore standing in the center of the yard,
 and beneath k a figure propped up In a high, wide bed. Beside the bed
 anothwe, that of a woman, bent a the one on the bed. This see emt s'
 Iris recognised as thof her mother.
  
 "Mother, what ate you doing hem?" asked Iris with souse mar Prise when
 they came up. Then she ghacedat the figure lying is the bed beneath
 cool white linens. "Diorkisi Oh, forg she blushed, embarrassed, "I
 mea st so come to you soon mme fitgavemeforahunninganoldfriend."
  
 Biorkis, bald as a knob now, but his beard longetand whiter than ever,
 squinted his eyes merrily and replied, N need, no needi You have been
 very busy since you ame I know. A Queen's tine is not her own. Alines
 has brought me your greetings, and rw met your daughtera lovely little
 creatures, I must say. lust like th mother."
  
 "I hey. only just sent them away with the other children to said Miom.
  Biorkis and I were taking about " she the news of the kingdom."
  
 Biorkis started forward. I am no stranger to trouble there is no need
 to shelter me from its pain. I have lived long enough to The Swoid and
 the Thu.
  
 know that fretting over it does no good." He paused and favored them
 each with a long, appraising gaze. "Yes, here you are. And though
 trouble brought you, lam glad to see you, my friends. It has been a
 long time."
  
 "Too long," said Bria, "and for that lam sorry. Sometimes we do not
 remember how much our friends mean to us until we see them again."
  
 "Do not be sorry for this old badger!" protested the aged priest. "I
 am not sorry for myself, nor should anyone be who is loved and cared
 for as I am here. Look! lam old and cannot walk anymore, so what do
 they do? They carry my bed outdoors for me! And in return I tell them
 stories and read to them from the old books This, they daim, pleases
 them so I am allowed to stay."
  
 Morwenna smiled and settled on the edge of the bed. "This one is a
 most highly regarded servant of the Most High. We would sooner turn
 out an elder thanBiorkis. We would have made him an elder long ago,
 but he would not hear of it."
  
 Biorkis replied gleefully, "Prepoaterousl The former High Priest of the
 temple of Ariel an elder? That would never do! No, I am content as I
 am. But please, my Ladies, sit down. I will have more chairs
 brought."
  
 "We can find places here," said Ens, perching on the am of her
 mother's chair. Esme sat down on the bed beside Morwenna. "The-King
 Quentin would like to see you. lam certain he would have come with us,
 but "
  
 Biorkis held up his hands. "Your mother has already told me what has
 happened, and my prayers are with you all. I, too, feel the loss of
 Durwin even now. How much more must Quenrin feel it? not to mention
 the abduction of your son, my Lady. But as I will be joining Durwin
 soon, I do not feel such grief as a younger man might. I cannot but
 think that the old rascal of a hermit will have some great work already
 in scheme for us to do when I get there. And so I will tarry here a
 little longer and rest up for it."
  
 The old priest spoke so assuredly and with such calm convicnon that
 Esme wondered at it. "You make it sound as if he has only gone on a
 brief journey to his home in Pelgnin Forest."
  
 "Aye, and so he hsl" cried Biokis. "But his journey was never
  
 I 917 I
  
 to a place so humble as Pelgrin. No, my Lady. He has joined the court
 of the Most High, Lord of All If I feel sadness, it is only fur the
 cruel way in which he was cut down. For all the goddness that was in
 him, Durwin should have ended his days like me, here, stir rounded by
 friends and loved by all"
  
 Morwenna smiled mid patted the pale hand that rested on the sheet. "I
 am glad to hear that you have decided to remain with us yet a little
 longer."
  
 Biorkis nedded happily, his clear eyes dancing at the sight of the
 women gathered around him. "I would remain always if I could be
 surrounded by such beauty as I see now." He paused, then glanced
 around him, adding ins more solemn tone, "But this visit, as pleasant
 as it is, shares some more urgent purpose than merely to cheer a
 babbling old rattle pate What is it that brings you to me?"
  
 Morwenna spoke first. "A dream. We would like you to hear it and tell
 us what it may mean."
  
 "Ah,a dream." He nodded knowingly, and then turned to address Esme
 directly. "Why don't you tell me your dream, then, my Lady, and we
 will se what can be learned from it."
  
 Esme's jaw dropped. "How did you know it was me?"
  
 Biorkis's eyes narrowed. "I saw is the moment I laid eyes on you. I
 said to myself, This one wears the cloak of vision."
  
 "You can see it?"
  
 "These old eyes have lost none of thpir sharpuessi in fact, they have
 gained some into the bargain. The veil between this world and the one
 beyond grows ever more transparent. Indeed, lately I have difficulty
 contenting myself with only looking at this world.
  
 "But yes, I saw the aura of your dream still clinging to you when you
 entered the garden. A most powerful dream it must have been. A
 vision!" "Do you think so?" Esme pondered this and then said, "It is
 true I have seldom had such an unusual and forceful dream. Perhapa it
 was a vision." She seemed taken with this notion.
  
 "Why not tell me and we shall see?" prodded2 Biorkis gently. The others

 looked on quietly as Esme gathered her thoughts, closing her eyes and
 entering once again into the dream that had so frightened her.
  
 As she began to speak she saw again the vivid events of the vision,
 taking place once more even as she spoke, only this time there was no
 sleep, only the images playing out before her as before. The garden and
 those around her faded from mind as she recounted her dream of the high
 and lonely place where men labored in vain to light the soggy pyre; of
 the tower built on a crumbling foundation that would not support it; of
 the bone thrown down in the nar ket square which became abanner of the
 ... "I see," said Biorkis softly as Esme opened her eyes. All was
 silent in the garden, save for the faint buzz of insects among the
 flowers. How long had she been under the spell of the dream? she
 wondered.
  
 She read the anxious expressions on the faces of her friends and knew
 that her dream had disturbed them as much as it had unset fled her. "Do
 you think it means anything anything important?"
  
 "Oh, aye. Undoubtedly! It is a dream of power, as I have already
 said. It carries within it seeds of truth He hesitated, then said
 quietly, "But what that truth is, I am not now able to say." He
 frowned. "No, I must have time to think about this and discover its
 meaning." uht surely it is most apparent," said Esme, and shocked
 herself with her own boldness. "Forgive me, sir. I meant no
 disrespect."
  
 Biorkis cwked an eye at her. "Speak, my Lady. The god may have
 revealed its meaning to you already."
  
 Esm. licked her lips. 4"The dark land must surely be our own, where
 men wander aimlessly without true light to guide them."
  
 "Yes, so I would say. I agree."
  
 "The beacon cannot be kindled without proper fuel the flame will not
 take hold "
  
 "The flame of true faith cannot be kindled on the fuel of the old
 religion I ought to know," said Biorkis. "But continue, please. You
 are doing wonderfully."
  
 Esme wrinkled her brow. "This next isa most difficult part. I don't
 know what it can mean: the tower that cannot stand."
  
 "Oh, but that is the essiest part," explained the former priest. "The
 god often presepts the same message in diftrent ways."
  
 I 919 I
  
 sme frowned so he explained by saying, "The tower of the new god will
 not be built on the foundation of the old ways, the old religion. One
 cannot build something new without clearing away the old."
  
 "I see," said Esme, "but I still do not understand what the last part
 can mean'
  
 "Itisplain enough," replied Biorkis.
  
 "How so?" asked Bris, who had remained very quiet since Bame had told
 her dream.
  
 "Ah, I think you already know, my Lady. Yes, you would," said Biorkis.
 "Do you not see? This part of the dream means exactly whatitsaysi
 EsmesavedmefromlookingatittoodoselyIwoulj have spent all night
 pondering it and missed the meaning completely! As it is, I think we
 need look no further than what has already been revealed."
  
 "You mean that this part of the dream says its own meaning?" sked
 Esme.
  
 "I believe so, yes. It wears its meaning in the events it describes:
 the bone of contention throwudown by a man in priest's robes-"
  
 "The butcher?"
  
 "You said the man dressed in dark robes a priest, then, or one who
 hides behind priestly garb to do his work."
  
 "The bone became a royal banner," said Alinea. "The dogs Itore it to
 shreds!"
  
 "The kingdom!" gasped Bria. "It is being rent asunder! Can anything
 be done?" Her green eyes pleaded for an answer.
  
 "Oh, yes. Yes. It must be hoped above all hope that the events
 foretold in Lady Esme's vision can be turned aside." He raised a
 finger in the air. "No doubt it was for this reason the vision
 was given
  
 "Then we must return to warn the King at once," said Bria.
  
 "Yes," agreed Alinea. "But tell me, you mentioned nothing of the
 Prince in your dream. I wonder why?"
  
 "I cannot say," replied Esme, a puzzled expression on her face.
 "Unless..." she glanced at Biorkis, who nodded encouragement Ip her
 "unless the welfare of Gem is not in doubt." Thu Szuovd and she Flame
  
 "Very goodi" exclaimed the old priest. "I could not have said it
 better myself. My Lady, you show a fine talent for interpreting
 dreams. We must talk more about this before you leave."
  
 "We will go now," suggested Morwenna. "If Esme's vision is true, the
 Elders will want to hear of it immediately."
  
 "Yes, yes, go at once," said Biorkis. "You must speak to them. No
 doubt they will discover something we have missed entirely. I was
 about to suggest it myself."
  
 Bria stood, saying, "With your leave, good Biorkis, we will go. But I
 hope we may see you again before we must return to Askelon."
  
 "Come hack if you have time, but do not worry if you cannot. I
 understand completely. Go, all of you. It is time for my midday nap.
 Shoot" Grinning, the old man folded his hands across his stomach and
 closed his eyes.
  
 Bria bent over him and kissed his bald head, and they all crept away
 quietly, leaving the garden toi lone occupant, and him to his rest.
  
 THIRTY-EIGHT
  
 "Wa uNs'a reach the castle by nightfall, Tipper. Yes leastways not
 long after. Still a fer road, though. Almost too fer on two legs in a
 day. But I don't mind, Tip, I don't." The tinker patted his dog and
 ruffled the fur behind her ears as they sat on a hickory stump beside
 the King's Road.
  
 The afternoon sun slid lower in the west over fields of ripening grain.
 They had left Pelgrin behind and upon emerging from the shaded wood,
 sat down for a few minutes to rest in the warmth of the day. The sword
 leaned against the stump for the moment; the weight of it had caused
 the thin cord to dig into its bearer's shoulder.
  
 1 921 I
  
 "Ab, what a day, Tip. Eh? Lookee yonder to that cloud o' dust rising.
 Some'uns coming and coming quick by the look of it. Not one only,
 maybe two or three or more. We'uns'd best stay put right here out of
 the way. They'll pass right by us so we'uns'li see who tis" Pym
 watched the dusty ochre doud rising from the road beyond the next hill.
 In a moment he heard the drum of hooves on the earthen track, sounding
 a dull rumble, then saw the riders themselves as they crested the hill
 and came on toward him.
  
 Soon Pym could see the bearing of the men in the saddle and their fine
 clothing and knew that they must be knights or lords. He could hear
 the clink-chink of the steeds' tack as they trotted lpng.
  
 The foremost riders two men riding abreast drew near where he sat on
 his rough hickory stump. Eyes straight ahead, looking neither right
 nor left, they passed him in a flash. Three more dashed by in an
 instant, and one of these raised a gloved hand in greeting, while one
 of his companions glanced at the tinker and nodded as he galloped by.
 Pym got to his feet and took up the iword. He stepped into the road
 and was in the act of hoisting the sword onto his shoulder once more,
 his eyes on the backs of the retreating horsemen, when a sixth rider
 approached.
  
 Before Pym could think or move, the rider was upon him. Hejumped back,
 dropping the sword as the horseman jerked the reins hard, bringing his
 charger to a hoof-clattering, dust-churning halt.
  
 "Out of the way, you fool!" growled the angry rider. "If you cannot
 watch were you are going, you should stay off the road! Next time I
 will trample you!"
  
 Pym threw his hands in the air. "Sorry, yer lordship! I beg yer
 pardon, master! Oh!" He scrambled out of the way as the ill tempered
 rider and his fidgety mount cantered closer. Then, remembering the
 sword, the tinker turned quickly, stooped, and picked it up.
  
 "Ho! Stop!" said the rider. "What have you there?"
  
 Pym raised frightened eyes. His mouth worked the air, but his voice
 was some time in coming. "N-nothing, sir," he managed to sputter at
 last, his features convulsing in anguish.
  
 "Hold, peasant! If you knew who it was that addressed you, you would
 do well to keep an honest tongue in your head."
  
 The tinker lowered his eyes and said nothing, be brought the The Swcrd
 and die Flame bundled sword behind his back, away from the prying eyes
 of the lord before him.
  
 Ax that moment Pym became aware of a sound behind him. The other
 riders, having seen one of their party stopped in the road, had come
 back to discover what the trouble was. All five of them rode up behind
 Pym. "What is the trouble, Ameronis?" asked one of the newcomers,
 eyeing Pym in his shabby clothes suspiciously.
  
 "This rascal darted out in front of me and nearly threw me from the
 saddle," replied the quarrelsome Ameronis.
  
 "I am certain he meant no harm," said Lord Edfrith-the one who had
 previously nadded to Pym as he rode by. "I noticed him on the stump
 here a moment ago. Leave him, and let us be off." The nobleman made a
 move as if to ride away, but none of his friends ibliowed.
  
 What are you holding there?" asked Ameronis again, his voice cold and
 menacing. "I will see it before I ride hence."
  
 Pym glanced at the ring of fhces around him, his heart leaping to his
 throat. "I I --nothing, my lord." He pulled the sword to him. "I am
 a poor man. A tinker. Please let me go."
  
 "Let him be, Ameronis," mid the one who had spoken before. "He has
 nothing to interest us."
  
 "Nevertheless," roared Ameronis, "I will see it! If it is nothing, let
 him show me." His piercing eyes feli upon Pym with keen determination.
 "But," he continued slyly, "if that is a sword he holds wrapped in
 those rags, I mean to find out where this tinker came by It.
  
 This brought a murmur from the others. "Well? said Lord Gorloic.
 "Show us, then, for I too would see it."
  
 "I discern the shape of a weapon beneath those rags," added another
 this was Lord Lupollen, Ameronis's closest friend. "Show us, tinker; it
 is our right."
  
 "No! wailed Pym helplessly. "I cannot!" His black dog flattened her
 ears and growled. One of the horses stamped the ground and snorted.
  
 "Give it to me!" demanded Ameronis, thrusting out his hand suddenly.
  
 Pyni clutched his prize to his chest and refused to give ix up.
  
 I 923 I
  
 "Come," said Lord Edfrith, "let us be about our own bawiness."
  
 "Got" shouted Lupollen. "We do not need you. But as this interests
 me, I will stay to see it through."
  
 Edfrith pulled his remus and his mourn backed from the group, wheeled,
 and galloped away. "I will have nothing more to do with this
 ill-advised plan," he shouted over his shoulder.
  
 "Please, sir. I have done nothing," pleaded Ppm, sweat dripping down
 his neck, staining his shirt. "Let we mis go in peace. I beg you, plo
 "
  
 "Silence, peasant! Shut your mouth!" With that, Ameronis leaned down
 from his saddle and the bundle.
  
 Terrified, Pym hung on and was pulled off his fast. Lord Ameronis
 struck him a blow across the face with his ated glove, raised his foot
 from the stirrups and kicked the tinker in the stomach. Pym released
 the sword and fell writhing to the ground. Tip barked and snapped at
 her master's attacker.
  
 Ameronis tore at the rag coverings, shreds of cloth falling from his
 hands. "Not" cried Ppm, rolling up to his feet once more. "Please!"
 He looked to the other noblemen jar help and saw their cool, impassive
 faces. They were with Ameronis. "I beg you, sir! Give it back!" He
 lurched far the blade, but was not quick enough. The haughty Ameronis
 lashed out with his booted foot, caught the tinker full on the jaw, and
 sent him sprawling backward in the dust.
  
 "I am in your debt, tinker," crowed Amerosis, palling the last of the
 tatters aside. uYou have delivered the pane into my handi" He raised
 the syord high. "And also the crownl"
  
 "By all the gods!" gasped the noblemen, looking on. "It is
 Zhaligkeer, the Shining One!"
  
 "For this service I will give you a reward, tinker," said Ameronis, his
 eyes shining with the light of his greed. "What do you think of
 that?"
  
 Pym stared in horror at the sword in the usurper's hand and said
 nothing.
  
 "I will gram you your worthless life," said Ameronis, laughing. His
 lords laughed too, nervously, still amazed that the sword had come to
 them. "For surely you have stolen this sword, tinker," The Srmd and
 the Fk,me continued the lord, lofting the sword and swinging it,
 enjoying its cold, resilient strength in his hand, the blade so finely
 crafted that it seemed alive.
  
 "Now get up on your feet, scum," he ordered.
  
 Ppm, his mouth bleeding and the skin along his jaw swelling an ugly
 violet-red, dragged himself to his feet.
  
 Ameronis flicked the point of the Shining One at the tinker's throat.
 "You will tell no one of this, tinker, do you hear me? I have ears
 everywhere, and if you teli I will know about it and I will have your
 head on a spike over the gate of my castle. Do you understand?" Pym
 felt the cold kiss of the sharp blade aga int his flesh. He knew the
 ambitious Lord Ameronis would not hesitate to kill him, and within his
 heart he burned with rage and shame he had let them take the Kings
 sword. What could he do? How could he prevent them?
  
 "Ye might as well kill me now," said Pym sullenly. "For I will not
 keep quiet about this." Now that the words were said he stood by them.
 "Yes, we urn mean to go to the King straightaway and tell him as
 what's happened."
  
 "You are so intle for your life then, tinker?"
  
 "I are so much far me King," replied Pym. "It be his sword ye' hold
 there as ye well know. We urn were taking it to him it been loat, ye
 see."
  
 "I warn you for the last time," Ameronis menaced. He raised the sword
 to strike. Tap growled savagely and barked at her master's .ker.
  
 Ppm stood his ground and dosed his eyes. Kit was to be his last
 moment..verywell,letitbeintheservlceS(hisKing.Hewsited for the sound
 o(the blade singing through the air.
  
 Instead he heard a shout far-off and high-pitched.
  
 "Wait!" said one of the others. "Someone is coming!"
  
 When a sound of hooves came thumping up behin4 them, Ameronis cursed
 and said, "I will finish with this one ewi el"
  
 "Do not be a fool!" said Lupollen, his voice tense. "We have what we.
  want; let us leave the field clean."
  
 Pym opened his eyes,a peep and saw the violent lord's face, black with
 rage, still towering above him, the sword still raised in
  
 I 925 I
  
 his hand. The hooves pounded closer, and another shout reached th
  
 Ameronis glanced up, then hovered for a moment in indecision.
  
 "Come!" urged Lupollen, his horse wheeling around. The others turned
 their mounts and started away.
  
 "The god bear witness," muttered Ameronis thickly, "blind luck has
 saved you, tinker. But if ever we meet again, your life is forfeit."
 With that he spurred his charger forward, directly at Pym, who jumped
 to the side. He was not quick enough, and Ameronis swung the sword
 hilt down on his skulL
  
 The heavens darkened, stars swung from their courses, and Ppm collapsed
 in the road.
  
 THIRTY-NINE
  
 KENNY. RIDING the Prince's brown pony, jogged along the well-used
 track leading to Askelon. He sat erect in the saddle, pretending to
 bes knight returning to the realm from quests and adventures itt
 faraway lands. He fancied himself returning to the King's service
 after a long absence to find, his name on the lips of his countrymen
 and peers, his deeds sung in halls great and small throughout the
 kingdom.
  
 Yes, to be such a knight, he thought, would be any man's greatest
 dream. He would give his life for it for one hour in the armor of a
 knight in the saddle of a genuine warhorse. Tarky trotted easily
 along, Askelon Castle showing misty in the distance over green fields.
 The world seemed calm and lazy in the warmth of the day, and Kenny
 despaired of finding any adventure on the way, for with every step the
 castle and its city drew nearer.
  
 Then, as horse and rider reached the bottom of a hill and started up
 the opposite side, they met another rider galloping fast The Sword and
 due Raw.
  
 the other way. The stranger passed by them in a flurry of hooves, his
 short cloak blowing out behind him, the charger's tail streaming. He
 did not so much as glance in the boy's direction, hut thundered by eyes
 ahead and hard.
  
 "That'd be a nobleman most like," said Rusy to his mount. "An' one
 fleeing something by the look of it. Maybe highwaymen!"
  
 At once his young head was filled with images of a fierce conflict with
 aband of ruthless robbers in which he, Sir Renny, bested the whole
 peck and sent the brigands scrambling back into the Wilderlands where
 the cowards belonged.
  
 Enticed by such impossible heroics, Kenny urged the brown pony' to a
 faster pace as they climbed the hill. Then as they reached the crest
 and the road stretched out before them once more, Kenny saw the scene
 he had just imagined: a group of brigands menacing a helpless traveler.
 The only diflhrence he could see was that the highwaymen were on
 horseback and the poor traveler afoot. He loosed a wild yelp, kicked
 his heels into Tarky's flanks, and galloped to the rescue, never
 thinking that he had no weapon and would not have known how to use one
 if he had it. Nevertheless, Kenny dashed for the thick of the fray
 with visions of glory dancing before him.
  
 It was about this time that Lord Ameronis and his friends heard the
 young rescuer approaching. Kenny saw a sword lifted up about to strike
 and gave vent to another war whoop, urging Tarky to greater speed as
 they came flying down the hill, elbowS flapping, legs akimbo.
  
 Here it was that the lords prevailed upon their leader to spare the
 tinker and to make clean their retreat with the King's sword. They all
 turned at once and galloped toward Kenny, who swallowed hard, put his

 head down, and charged into them.
  
 At the precise moment of collision, Kenny squeezed shut his eyes. He
 felt the air buflht him as the riders swept by, and then heard the
 sound of their retreat behind him. When he owed his eyes again he was
 alone in the road, the highwaymen sprnuway and disappearing over the
 hill. Ahead of him, the wayfaiei1ay in a heap at the side of the road.
 Kenny clattered to a halt, threw himself from the saddle, and dove u
 the man's aid, rolling him over in the dust. Blood ran freely from the
 cut on his mouth and a raw bruise
  
 I 927 I
  
 welted on his jaw. Tip licked her master's face, cleaning away some of
 the dust and blood.
  
 Pym's eyelids fluttered open weakly. "Ohh...." he moaned. "Good sit,
 are ee alive?" asked Renny, eyes wide as pot lids. "o... me head. Owl
  They've kilt me good," he said, struggling to get up.
  
 "Easy there," said Renny, raising him to a sitting position. "I come
 to help ee."
  
 Pym, eyes watering from the throbbing in his head, squinted at his
 young savior. "Who are ye?" -"Renny, sir," he replied as if the name
 should have preceded him and would ezplain all. "I came upon ee here
 beset by brigands."
  
 "Eh?" Pym turned his head and saw that his attackers were indeed
 vanished. "Ye saved my life! They meant to carve me to a treat. Yes,
 sir. Ye saved me, young master! Thankee, oh than keel
  
 Renny glowed with this admission. Yes, he had saved the man's life,
 just as a knight would have done. He had faced aband ofutthroats and,
 unarmed, routed them and sent them fleeing for the Wilderlands to
 escape his justice. "Who were they?" he asked seriously.
  
 "Oh, abad lot, young master. A bad lot they were all of them evil.
 They were going to put me head on a spike, they were. Yes. I stood a
 dead man til ye came arunnin'. Oh, thankee."
  
 "Did they steal anything?"
  
 At this the tinker began to tremble. "Oblil They took the sword!" " Er
 sword?"
  
 "Not mine. No, nivver mine! Oh, no. The King's sword! They took it

 one called Ameronis; he's the very one as did it. He wanted to carve
 me up and pstt in poor head on a spike."
  
 "Ameronis? Lord.Ameronis? I have heard tell of him."
  
 "A bad one. Oh, yes. Very bad"
  
 Kenny thought for a moment. "How could ee have the King's sword?" he
 asked, scratching his head. " Ee mean the Shining One itself?"
  
 "None other." Pym nodded solemnly. "We urn found it in the road a few
 days ago. Didn't know it was the Shining One then and lb Smsdsd rAg
 Than.
  
 Yes, hid it tree. We urn went back fer to fetch it early this morn and
 were bringing it back fer the King. He needs it something powerfoL"
  
 Kenny studied the situation carefully, weighing what the man had told
 him. "Well," he said at length, "there's nothing for it but to ride
 straightaway to the King and tell him what happened."
  
 "I agree." Pym rose unsteadily to his feet, placing a hand on the
 boy's shoulder.
  
 "Can ee ride? The pony is sturdy, and we're not terrible far from the
 castle."
  
 "I think sob" nodded Pym, and then squeezed his 4es shut with pain.
 "Oww! He caught me a good un then, he did. That un I'd like to
 repay."
  
 With Renny's help Pym clambered into the saddle, then let down a hand
 to hoist the boy up behind him. They swayed uncertainly and started
 off, Tarky bending his head low with the eitra weight, but making
 sureibotedly for Askelon.
  
 The shadows of the high curtain battlements stretched across the inner
 ward by the time Theido and Ronsard had membled their men to begin
 searching for the sword. All afternoon the ward yard bed been in
 turmoil as knights and men at arms were outfitted' for a search inch.
 Mensander bad never seen. Ronsard spared no one from the task who
 could not serve better in some other way, and horses were saddled and
 provisions laid in for many days on the traiL
  
 "This is war," said Ronsard to Hagin, when the warder pro mated the
 plundering of his stores. "If we fail, the Dragon King falls. I ,e no
 reason to hold back a reserve we would only he invitlug our own
 defeat."
  
 "Do not speak of defeat," replied Theido, overhearing. "It will be
 difficult enough as it is. War you said? Worse than w our foe is
 time, and time wins all in the end."
  
 "Not this battle," replied Ronsard grimly. "I mom to win tit is one."
  
 Just then a gate man came running up, saluted Hagin, and blurted out a
 message. "Warder, sir, there's someone at the gate deI 929 I
  
 seetheLng.ItoldthemtheKingseesnoone,butthey insisted. I didn't like to
 trouble you, but they will not go away."
  
 "What do they want?" "They will' not say, sir."
  
 "Then send them packing," ordered Hagin, "with the edge of your sword,
 man."
  
 Theido and Ronsard, about to turn away, heard the gate man say, There's
 two of them on one brown pony, and "
  
 Ronsard stun around. "A brown pony?" His senses prickled.
  
 "What is it, my lord?" asked Hagin.
  
 "Bring them," ordered Ronsard. "And the pony. Ax once."
  
 The gate man dipped his head and ran off to fetch the visitors as
 instructed. "You have a reason for this, I'll warrant?" said TheM..
 Hagin looked on quizzically.
  
 "It maybe nothing." replied Romud. "But I seem to remember someone
 saying that the Prince rode a brown pony the day of the hunt."
  
 "Aye, he did. It was his favorite," offered Hagin. "What of it? There
 must be dozens of brown ponies in the regi op hereabouts."
  
 "As you say, but two do m ride unless there a same uamcy, and they do
 not arrive at the cude with demands for the King."
  
 "I see what year mean," said Theido. "But do yen think this an
 possibly have anything to do with us?"
  
 "That we will quickly discover, I think." He looked across the yard
 where the gatekeeper approached leading a pony; two hesitant fipires
 trailed behind.
  
 In a die gatmun had bsmght visatoas. a thin, gIy boy and a
 shaup-shouldered nun and their mount to staid before the knights and
 the warder. "Here they are, sirs. As you requested."
  
 "Tinker, we meet again," said Ronsard. "Hagin, would you examine the
 horse? I think some of us may know this animal."
  
 "We urn did not steal it, yer lordship," replied Pym. "But how do ye
 know me?".
  
 "I was the wresch whose head was broken at the Gray Goose the night the
 KMj' temple was pulled down."
  
 Pym's eyes opened wider in recognition; he nodded knowingiy. "Sune as
 what happened to me not three hours ago." The Stooni and the Flame
  
 "This is the Prince's mount and no doubt." Hagin patted the pony's
 neck. "That's the Prince's saddle and tack. The animal came from the
 King's stables that is a fair certainty. If you like, I will call the
 stable master He would know better than anyone else."
  
 "That will not be necessary," said Ronsard. He looked at the two
 before him. "Well? You had better tell us all about it."
  
 "I found him, sir," said Renny ins small, awed voice. Here he was in
 the inner ward yard of Askelon Castle where knights and horses, squires
 and men-at-arms hurried to ready themselves as for battle; he could
 hardly take it all in. "He came into our field below the forest. I
 caught him."
  
 "The pony?" Ronsard smiled; light twinkled in his eyes. "I see. And
 then what did you do?"
  
 Before the boy could answer, Pym broke in. "rIl tell ye what he did.
 He saved my life, that's what he did. We'uns "
  
 "You and the boy?" "Me and Tip, sir," said Pym, motioning to the dog.
  
 "I see. Go on... "We urn were bound fer Askelon and were set upon by
 highwaymen and brigands leastwise I thought they were highwaymen and
 brigands, I did."
  
 "Highwaymen?" asked Theido. "In this part of Mensandor?"
  
 Pym nodded vigorously. "They caught me and took the sword."
  
 "They took your sword?" asked Ronsard. "When does a tinker have need
 to carry a sword?"
  
 "Not my sword, yer lordship," explained Pym. "The King's sword!"
  
 FORTY
  
 Timmo ws the first to react to the news. "You found the King's
 sword?"
  
 Pym nodded solemnfr, Benny nodded, toe, and Tip wagged her taiL "We urn
 found it in the road days ago .... ." He lapsed into silence
 remembering what else they had fbund.
  
 "Next to the body of a man isn't that right?" prompted Ronsard.
  
 Pym nodded slowly and thrust his hands out. "But we urn had nothing to
 do with that! No, sir. Niuver lifted hand against any me whole life
 long. No, nivver did." "We believe you, tinker," said Theido. "What
 you have told us with what we already know. What did you cin wi* the
 sword when you found it?"
  
 "Hid it, sir. We urn hid it in a hollow tree, mdid. A hazelnut tree m
 the forest. But we urn did nnt as much )w k were the King's sword not
 at first."
  
 "But when you found out you went beck for it. Is that right?" Ronsard
 had formed a picture in hii mind about what must have happened the
 tinker coming upon the sword in the road, frightened, hiding the weapon
 and coming to town, hearing the talk, and determining to bring back the
 sword. "You intended giving it back to the King?"
  
 "Yes, sir, very much. That's what we'uns planned all along well, maybe
 not at first. Didn't know it was the King's sword at first. No,
 didn't know that."
  
 "Who took it from you?" asked Theido. "You mentioned highwaymen." 77w
 Sejond and the Flame
  
 "Six of them there were. Two passed while we uns rested aside of the
 road. Then three more-nivver paid me no mind bat the last one nearly
 knocked me down in the road, he did came a'charging along that way. We
 uns nivver seen him til he pitched to a halt. Then twas he saw the
 sword and took it. I hanged on as mighty as I could, but he caught me
 a blow or two on the jaw." Pym rubbed the swollen bruise gingerly.
 "This un here" he indicated Renny "saved old Pym's hide, he did. He
 rescued me, and him just a lad but with spunk, yes sir! Lots o' spunk
 has he. Yes, and he flew into them and sent them slinking away like a
 pack of mangy curs!"
  
 Ronsard regarded the boy closely. "Is this true, young master? Yes
 defended the tinker here from the brigands?"
  
 Renny nodded, too overwhelmed to speak.
  
 "Brave lad," remarked Theido. "Well done. Not many would take on six
 armed men alone and with no weapons. What made you do it?"
  
 Renny opened his mouth, and the words tumbled out. "I'm going to be a
 knight, sir. Knights are brave and help those as needs help."
  
 "Indeed!" Ronsard agreed. "But were you not afraid?"
  
 "No, sir. Not until Pym told me who they were."
  
 "Oh? You know who they were, Pym?" Theido leaned forward.
  
 "We'uns heard a name the one as took the sword. It was "
  
 "Let me guess," put in Ronsard. "Ameronis?"
  
 "The very one!" cried Pym. "That's the very one. And a mean one he
 is, sir. Mean as the night is long. Yes, he is."
  
 "I thought so!" said Ronsard. "Well, here is our battle, already
 drawn for us. There can be no doubt where the rook has taken his
 prize."
  
 Theido pulled his chin and gazed out across the yard. "To that
 snuggery of his on the Sipleth." He turned to Ronsard. "That is
 settled, then; we prepare not for a search but a siege!"
  
 After receiving the letter of ransom, Quentin had taken to his bed in
 despair; he had pot moved all day. Paralyzed by a crippling
 helplessness, he lay as one stricken with the disease which turns the
  
 I 933 I
  
 limbs to stone. The letter had been his son's death foretold, for he
 no longer had the Shining One to give the kidnappers, and not enough
 time to find it in any event.
  
 Now, because of his transgression, because of his striking down the
 wretch in the road, be would lose his son and heir, and his throne as
 well. But what did that matter? He had already lost his true it
 friends: Durwin dead, Toli driven away and captured; even his Queen
 left him alone in his hour of greatest torment. But beyond all this,
 the pain that cut him deepest was the knowledge that the Most High had
 removed his hand from him and was now pouring out a heavy judgment upon
 him.
  
 The judgment was more than he could bear.
  
 There came a rap on his chamber door, and though Quentin did not move
 or attend the sound in any way, the door swung open. A tall, lanky
 figure entered the darkened room and came to stand beside the bed.
 "Sire, said Theido, "all is in readiness." The King did not answer.
  
 Theido stood looking sadly down on his friend for a moment, then said,
 "We are waiting for you to lead us." He had been about to say that
 they were leaving now, but Quentin's condition shocked him and he
 thought to try to rouse the King. For an instant he thought the ploy
 might work.
  
 Quentin turned his head on his pillow; his eyes focused on Theido's
 thee. "They are going to kill my son," he said softly, "and I am to
 blame."
  
 "Nay, Sire. I have come with news: the sword has been found. We go now
 to claim it."
  
 "Zhaligkeer found?"
  
 "Lord Ameronis has stolen it from a tinker who found it in the road the
 day of Prince. Germ's abduction." "Then he has won. He will never
 give it up."
  
 "Not without a fight, no. But we mean to give him a fight the likes of
 which he has never seen. In the end he will give the Shining One
 back id gldly. That is why you must ride with us."
  
 "There is no time, Theido. No time. Already it is too late."
  
 "It is not too late, lord. But it will be if you delay."
  
 "Go, then, and see what can be done." The Su and the Flame
  
 Theido was about to agree, hesitated, and instead replied, "I will not
 give the order, Sire. That you must do. And you must ride at the head
 of your troops if we are to show Ameronis and his friends that we will
 brook no treason in this realm."
  
 Again Quentin lay silent. Theido could not tell if his words were
 finding their mark or if his listener was so far given to his despair
 that nothing could reach him. The knight mid a silent prayer to the
 Most High to move the King once more to action. "Defend your throne, my
 lord," Theido said. "Come. Ride with us. Lead us."
  
 Quentin sighed and passed a hand before his eyes. "No, lam no King.
 Leave me."
  
 "Who will lead the troops if you' will not?"
  
 "You lead them."
  
 "I will not."
  
 "Ronsard, then. Anyone. I do not care."
  
 Theido knew he was beaten then, turned away, and walked to the door.
 With his hand on the latch he paused and said, "There are those who
 will give their lives for you and your throne. And many more will
 brave any danger in service to you. flurwin did, and Toli and others
 you know nothing of. Will you not lifts hand to save yourself?" With
 that he closed the door.
  
 The King heard his footsteps diminishing in the corridor, and lay
 staring up into the darkness of his blackened room. He did not move.

  
 "Well?" Ronsard asked, already guessing the answer, for it was written
 in the gray, weary lines of his friend's face.
  
 "He will not ride. I fear we have lost our King even before a single
 blow has been delivered."
  
 "If our King gives himself over to defeat, then our kingdom is in
 disarray. The jackals will tear it to pieces."
  
 Theido drew a deep breath. "That, at least, we can hold off for a
 little longer. We will ride to Ameron-on-Sipleth and do what we can."
 He cast an eye skyward. "If we ride all night we can be there by
 morning."
  
 As twilight tinted the bowl of heaven the color of dark wine, the Dragon
 King's army left Askelon. In all the times of leaving, in all
  
 I 935 I
  
 the wars when Mensandor's men-at-arms had answered the call and marched
 forth into battle, in all the frightful days when foe threatened and
 peace would be won only by lance and sword, there had never been a more
 silent departure.
  
 The troops filed through the outer ward and gatehouse, over the immense
 drawbridge spanning the dry moat, and down the long ramp to wend
 through the streets of the city. The knights came first on horseback,
 their armor bundled beneath netting behind the saddles of their
 squires. The footmen were next, marching together in long ranks, not
 speaking for word had spread through the file hat the Dragon King had
 not the heart to lead his men. After the footmen came the hevy wagons
 loaded with provisions and weapons for the footmen and knights; smitha'
 and surgeon? wa ins with supplies and tools for mending broken men and
 their armaments formed the rear of the train.
  
 The silent army passed through the streets of the city like a ghostly
 phalanx whispering off to some forgotten battle on the mists of time.
 No one came out to mark their passing; no citizen cheered their march.
 The streets remained empty of all but a few mongrel dogs,
 hungry-looking and scabby, who ran yapping at the horses' hoofs.
  
 At the head of the troops rode Ronsard and Theido side by side, upright
 in the saddle, eyes ahead. They did not speak, but wrapped themselves
 in their own thoughts like cloaks against the night. And though the
 night was warm, there was an atmosphere of melancholy and futility that
 chilled the air. AU felt it who followed the banner of the Dragon King
 this night.
  
 For, without the enemy so much as lifting blade against the throne,
 Mensandor had lost her King.
  
 FORTY-ONE
  
 Ewmt jou.m.i sat stroking his beard in the firelight, staring into the
 glowing embers on the hearth; next to him sat his wife, Morwenna, and
 Alinea beside her. Bria and Esme, opposite the esteemed elder, watched
 him carefully, waiting for what he would say. Shadows flickered on the
 walls, and in one corner a cricket chirped its night song Finally, his
 chest rising as he drew air deep into his lungs, he looked up and said,
 "Yes, I agree. You must go back at once. The dream, as Biorkis
 suggests, has been given as a warning for you to return or a sign- that
 you must be present to witness the event which is foretold and will
 take place soon. Eiher way you must go."
  
 "Thank you, Elder Jollen. Your words make my heart rest easier in its
 decision," Bria answered.
  
 "I could discuss this with the other elders if you like, but I have no
 doubt that they will say what I have already said. Yes, go. I know
 that you have hardly had time to rest from your journey and now must
 leave, but we will pray that the god will give you strength for your
 travels."
  
 "I hate the thought of leaving," said Esme. "In so short a time I have
 come to feel very comfortable here almost as if I belong here."
  
 Jollen looked at her, nodding to himself as if he could see something
 in that young woman that no one else could. "Perhaps the god is
 speaking to you, Esme. It may be that he has a place for you here
 among us. In any event, you will always be welcome in Dekra. Return
 when you may, and stay as long as you care to; allow your heart to find
 itself again."
  
 I 937.1
  
 The elder's last words surprised Name. "Did Brie tell you about my ...
 my troubles?"
  
 Jollen's smile was gentle. "No, my Lady. I did not need words to tell
 me tim you have been a party to much pain and sadness of late. From
 the moment you came through the gate I saw much a you of the little
 child lost."
  
 Name lowered her eyes and stared at her hands in her lap. "It is so
 apparent, then?"
  
 "No!" replied Brie.
  
 "Not, no perhapa no to everyone," admitted Elder Jollen. "But it as
 part of my gift that I see most clearly the shape of the inner soul. I
 dQ not speak to shame you, Name. Only to tell you that we know of your
 hurts and have been praying for you since you entered here."
  
 "I thank you for your prayers. And I have kit more at peace here than
 at any time since. -- ." Her voice faltered and she paused, letting
 her words trail off
  
 Morwenna rose and put an arm around her. "Come back when your work is
 done, and stay with us. It would be an honor to have you here."
  
 "My work?" Name looked around at the group. "What do you mean by my
 work'?"
  
 "Of us all, Name," replied Alinee, "you are the one who had the vision;
 you are the one to whom the Most High has spoken."
  
 "I have some part top in this?"
  
 Elder Jollen chuckled lightly. "We all do, to be sure. But yours isa
 special part. Whist Orren has revealed to you alone something of his
 plan. The Most High has his hand on you, Esme."
  
 They talked a little more then, about commonplace things and the
 preparations that had been made for their departure early the next
 morning. But nothing more was said of Name's dream or its possible
 significance, though all knew that some word of power had been spoken
 among them and that it would result in some great deed as ye
 unforeseen, and that this was what sent the women hurrying off once
 more. When they rose reluctantly to go to their beds, Moeiuia led them
 to the door, saying, "I will come to bring you breakfast and to see you
 away in the morning." The Ssw si. Fhw*
  
 "Please do not bother," said the Queen. "You have all done so much for
 us already."
  
 "It is no trouble." Morwenna dismissed Em's comment with a whisk ocher
 hand. "I only regret that I have not had the pleasure of spending more
 time with your little ones. They are charming! You must bring them
 back soon, and Quentin too. Helm been too long away.
  
 "He would agree with you, I know." Bria took Motwenna's hands as
 Jollen came up to stand behind his wife. "Pray for him. Please .. .
 pray for him, and for my son."
  
 "You may trtsst in it that we will," answered Jollen. "Our prayers
 have not ceased since you came to us. Yes, until we hear that all is
 well with you once more we will remain in prayer." He paused and
 regarded the women with a long, appraising gaze. "But be encouraged,"
 he said abruptly. "Your task here, the reason for your coming, has
 been fulfilled, and the Most High is pleased to give you his blessing.
 You have been faithful to your hearts, and even now thethinga which
 helm promised are coming to pass. Go, so that you may witness them and
 know that he is ever true to those who follow him."
  
 Silently the visitors embraced their hosts and stepped from the warm,
 fire lit room into the cool summer night ablaze with myrhd stan. They
 hastened to their beds, too full of private thoughts to speak, but
 feeling each one closer to the otlm, conjoined with a strength of love
 and purpose that held them secure. And though they might be forced to
 ride through the darkness of evil days ahead, none doubted the light
 which had been promised at their dsminatlon.
  
 wroli? Are you asleep?" asked Prince (3erin. The bo slid closer to
 the man's huddled form beside him.
  
 "No," replied Toli, rolling over. "What is it?"
  
 "I heard something; someone is coming."
  
 "I heard it as well. It is the guard again, making sure we are still
 here and have not vanished through the cracks in the wall."
  
 "They have been watching us closely this day, and the last closer than
 before. Why?"
  
 "They have sprung the trap, I believe. They do not want
  
 I 939 I
  
 anything to happen to us until they know if they have caught anything
 or not."
  
 "But what do they want?"
  
 "Revenge. Nimrood tried to steal the throne once before, and"
  
 Before Toli could finish, there came a scrape at the door and it crack
 illuminated the room. Toli rolled to his feet. "What is it now?" he
 asked as the visitor entered the cell. asked as the visitor entered the
 cell.
  
 "Resting comfortably, my pets?"
  
 "Nimroodl" said Toll darkly. "So you have slithered in to taunt your
 prisoners?"
  
 set on your worthless heads. The ransom letter has been sent and
 received. The King has no choice but to comply."
  
 "What have you don snake?".
  
 "Merely suggested that I would be willing to free my captives in
 exchange for a certain object of value to the King." Nimrood paused
 and laughed wickedly, "Hal An object soon to be of little value to the
 King!"
  
 "What are you talking about?" Toli stepped closer.
  
 "Stay where you are!" Nimrood shouted. Thea, in a calmer voice, "That
 is better. What object?" He shrugged, the torch throwing his black
 shadow huge against the walls. "I see no point in keeping it from you.
  His sword-that is the object I will have."
  
 "The Shining One!" gasped Prince Gem, who had come to stand at Toli's
 side.
  
 "Yes, Ibelieve that is what they call it. A fine weapon lam told,
 though I have never seen it myself."
  
 "No!" cried Germ. "The King cannot give up the Shining One!"
  
 "We shall see," Nimrood chuckled. "We shall see."
  
 "The Prince is right. The Dragon King will never surrender the
 Zhaligkeer. It would mean humbling the throne, and he will not do
 that."
  
 "Pity," sniffed Nimrood. "But perhaps he will see it differently.
 What is a throne worth? The life of his only son and heir, and that of
 his closest friend as well?" Th Sword ad the Flame
  
 "I see," replied Toli coolly. "You would force the choice. But you
 are forgetting that a King is King first and a man second. He must do
 what is best for his realm."
  
 "In any event, the choice should prove interesting. And we will soon
 have the opportunity of finding out."
  
 "How soon?"
  
 "Five days' time. At midday fIve days hence you will be led to the
 temple courtyard and bound. If the King does not bring this enchanted
 sword of his you will be killed on the altar of Ariel. Oh, the gods do
 not require human sacrifices these days, I know. But this time I think
 the High Priest will insist. What will the courageous King Quentin do
 with the blood of your deaths on his hands? How
 willhellvewithhimself;Iwonder?"Nimroodsteppedbackapace and lifted the
 torch high. "And now you will wonder, too!"
  
 Toll stood as one made of stone, fists clenched at his sides, muscles
 rigid, and watched the old sorcerer disappear. The cell door closed,
 the bolt scraped in the lock, and the room was dark and quiet once
 more. They heard Nimrood chuckling to himself as he stalked back along
 the corridor to his foul nest.
  
 "Is it true?" asked Germ when the wizard's cackling could no longer be
 heard. His voice trembled as he spoke.
  
 "Yes," said Toll, wrapping an arm around the boy and pulling him close.
 "I am afraid it is true. He might have come here to taunt us with it,
 but I think not. The old vulture wants us to share the poison of fear
 between us he hopes that this knowledge will fester in us like a belly
 wound. But we must not let it. We must not give up hope for a
 moment."
  
 "I am afraid, Toli. What will happen to us?"
  
 "I cannot say, young master. lt is out of our hands now."
  
 FORTY-TWO
  
 A DULL, gray-white dawn broke over Pelgrin, bringing mist from the
 turbid, muddy waters of the Sipleth River. On the river tanks at a
 place where the ground rose to form the rocky crag of a bluff
 overlooking an expanse of gray water, stood Ameron Castle. Below the
 castle the Sipleth flattened and widened as it curled around the bluff
 in its stony bed, giving Lord Ameronis a natural barrier on two sides;
 the forest, wild and thick us that part of Mensandor, protected him on
 a third side. This left the only clear pproach from the front, an
 approach made difficult for any I attackers by rough terrain and a
 rising slope.
  
 Theido and Ronsard leaned heavily on the pommels of their addles and
 surveyed the fortress in the fitful light of the new day. is roc$der
 than I remember it," said Ronsard, "and better fortified."
  
 "We will take up our positions there and there," indicated Theido with
 a sweep of his arm, "just out of bowahot. A man like Ameronis will be
 prepared for battle at any time, so we must not delude ourselves that
 we will catch him napping."
  
 "There is one thing we may do before they know we are here send the
 sappers to scout a location for a mine beneath the walls."
  
 "Ord#it at once, and send archers with them in case the castle twakes
 and offers battle."
  
 Ronsard swung himself wearily down from his mount and walked back into
 the fringe of trees where the army waited. He talked to several
 knights who would act as field commanders and gave them their orders.
 Theido, too, dismounted and paced along the perimeter of the wood,
 studying the lay of the land and the ittmtion of the castle upon it.
 While he looked on, a score of men The Seoul aud the Name dressed in
 rough hide clothing came running out of the forest toward the castle
 carrying long pointed rods in their hands. Behind them came bowmen
 with longbows and quivers of arrows on their backL
  
 When they reached the very feet of the towering curtains, the men split
 off into groups of two or three and began probing the ground and
 examining the stone all around the outside walls, jamming their rods
 into the ground, or thrusting them into cracks and seams in the stone
 at the foot of the outer curtains.
  
 After a while Ronsard came up to stand beside Theido as he watched the
 activity of the sappers. "It will likely take some time. I suggest we
 both get some sleep if we can, before Ameronis awakes and discovers
 that he. is besieged. I have already given the order to the
 troop.."
  
 Theido rubbed his eyes with his fists and turned to his friend. "My
 heart is not in this fight, this raising sword against one of our own,
 even if it is Ameronis. He is still a lord of the realm."
  
 Ronsard shrugged. "He ceased being a lord of Mensandor when he
 willfully defied his King. He as a renegade and must be dealt with.
 Treason is no little thing."
  
 "I do not disagree. I only wish there was some other way."
  
 "Every moment he abides within, holding the King's swosid, he holds the
 King's heir in his hands."
  
 "I wonder if he knows that."
  
 "Would it make a diflrence to him, do you think?"
  
 "Perhaps not. But I will see that he is informed as soon as may be.
 That, at least, will make him think twice before he forces this issue
 further."
  
 Ronsard frowned. "He will not bend. Aineronis is too proud and has
 waited too long. The siege will begin, and let us pray that it is a
 short one. We do not have much time."
  
 With that the twoed and went back to attend to the establishment of the
 camp, and to find themselves a place to stretch out for some much needed
 sleep.
  
 In Ameron Castle, Lord Ameronis and his friends slept in their high
 soft beds beneath fine linen in rooms hung with exquisite tapestries
 embroidered in silk. Ameronis was accustomed to the
  
 I 943 I
  
 very best things, and styled himself a King, so hot did the flame of
 ambition burn in him.
  
 Now he slept soundly in his broad bed, dreaming the day close at hand
 when he would ascend the Dragon Throne in the Hall of the Dragon King.
 It was a vision long cherished and nourished in his heart, and soon he
 would see its fulfillment now that he possessed the storied Zhaligkeer.
 The sword itself lay in a locked casket at the foot of his bed; he did
 not trust even his own armorer to keep it for him, but wanted it near
 him at all times.
  
 On the wall walk outside the lord's tower window men ran shouting,
 their footsteps' slapping the stone flagging. Their cries stirred
 Ameronis from his dreams of kingly glory and he awoke. "Chamberlain!"
 he cried, and his call was answered at once by a slight, weasel-eyed
 man with brown, rotten teeth.
  
 "My lord?" the servant said, thrusting his head in through the
 doorway.
  
 "By Zoar, what is going on? How is a man top with such a clatter? I
 have guests in my house and will not have them awakened."
  
 "Some disturbance outside the castle, my lord. Its nature has not yet
 been determined."
  
 "Blazes! I will see to it myself!" With that Ameronis threw back the
 coverlet and strode out onto the bartizan and mounted a flight of steps
 to the battlements. The lord's chamber was in the foremost west tower
 and overlooked the gate and the approach from the forest.
  
 It took him only an instant, once the sleep had been rubbed from his
 eyes, to ascertain the cause of the disturbance which had roused him
 from his bed. "By all the gods of heaven and earth!" he cried. "We
 are besieged!"
  
 At that moment a young knight, who was Ameronis's commander
 approached. "My lord, we are besieged."
  
 "I can see that! How many are there?"
  
 "We have not had time to count. I have just come from forti1ing the
 gates. One of the watchmen sounded the alarm only minutes ago at the

 southern battlement. Sappers, my lord, are looking for a weakness to
 exploit."
  
 "King's men?" The Sa,o,vi zn4 the Flame
  
 "They wore no badges, my lord. Nor have I seen any."
  
 "Very well. Rain arrows down on their foolish heads. That will teach

 them to come sniffing like dogs around these walls!"
  
 "Bowmen have been ordered, my lord. But the sappers ran off as soon as
 they arrived at the battlements."
  
 Ameronis turned and gazed out toward the wood where the Dragon King's
 army waited. "So," he murmured to him sel4 "it begins already." Then
 he barked an order over his shoulder to the young knight. "Post
 archers, and inform me at once if they show themselves again."
  
 "Yes, my lord." The commander dipped his head, and Amer. onis strode

 from the wall walk on bare feet, back down the steps and across the
 bartizan to his chamber. There he dressed hastily, throwing on his
 padded tunic in the event he would be required to don his armor before
 the day was out. Then he hurried to the armory to order the
 disposition of the weapons; from there he went to the warder to inquire
 into the castle's provisions: food, water, pain, and fodder for the
 horses; next he went to the gates to personally oversee the
 reinforcement of their immense timbers with wedges and croesbeams.
  
 All this Lord Ameronis did without fluster or anxiety, but as one well
 accustomed to war and its preparation. In truth, he had been waiting
 for this day all his life. If he went about his business with the
 clear. eyed dispassion of abattle-tried veteran, it was because he,
 like his father, was a man whose ambition for the throne schooled him
 well in the use of power and its attainment.
  
 He would be King, he vowed, or die trying.
  
 At midday Ronsard awoke from a too-short nap and made an inspection of
 the camp, visiting with his commanders and men, all of whom had been
 busily transforming the woods round about into a small village a
 village of fighting men.
  
 "Sir Garth," said Ronsard, hailing a thickeinewed knight who was
 directing the construction of a tether line for the horses. "What word
 from the uppers we sent out this morning?"
  
 The big man drew air into his great barrel of a chest and puffed out
 his cheeks; the air whistled through his teeth. "Nothing good, / 945
 1
  
 my lord. Castle Ameron is as secure as the rook she sits upon. The
 uppers found no breach point, nor any soft footing around the entire
 perimeter at least three sides, I mean. The fourth side is the river."
 Ronsard frowned. "Nothing?"
  
 Sir Garth shook his head. "Her roots are stone, my lord, hard as her
 master's heart. We'll find no tunneling place beneath those
  
 Ronsard nodded and walked off. So be it, he thought. If we cannot go
 under the walls, we will go over Thereisnotimetbe lengthy siege the
 matter must he settled in four days if we are to reach the High Temple
 before... Well, one way or another we will reach it in time. With the
 true god's help we will reach it in time.
  
 Just then he heard footsteps behind him and turned to meet Theido.
 "You look the better for a bit of sleep, my friend. We are getting too
 old to be chasing through the forests all night, eh?"
  
 Though Rmuas tone chee Theido remained heavy hearted, his voice was
 gruff when he spoke. "Is there any sign from the castle?"
  
 "None. I spoke with the watch comupider a moment ago he said there has
 been no signal from towers or battlements, though it appears a few
 archers have been posted.  They are waiting."
  
 "Hmphl" said Theido. "Thea I will give them something to called for a
 squire to bring his horse.
  
 "What is your plan?" Ronsard hurried after him. The squire came
 running with wido's charger, and the tall knight caught up the reins
 and put his foot in the stinup. Ronsard placed a hand on his shoulder.
  "Do not go al ome
  
 "Come with me, then. lt ma lies no diftrence to me." Theido swung
 himself into the saddle and wheeled his horse.
  
 "Waiti" called Ronsard, and then sent the squire scurrying after his
 own mount.
  
 When Ronsard caught up with his headstrong friend, he was hal fray to
 the castle aa uss the stony escarpment. Granite outcroppiap pushed
 through the mosey turf making the way more difficult. The sun shone
 down from directly overhead, glancing off The Sword ajsd ii. Flame
 these rock faces with a harsh light. Ameron Castle stood before and
 above them at the top of the slope, and Ronsard studied the walls
 carefully as they approached.
  
 They rode to within bowshot of the walls and halted. Theido raised his
 hand to his mouth and called to the watchers. "I am Lord Theido,
 friend of the King. I would parley with your master. Bring hinL"
  
 The two riders waited while the men on the battlements debated this
 request, ultimately deciding that they could not refuse. One of the men
 said something, a head disappeared from the crenellation, and the first
 watcher called back, "We have sent for our lord, sir.
  
 They waited the knights' horses stamped and snorted imptiently, tossing
 their heads and shaking their imues, eq to move on. But the wait was
 rewarded with the appearance of Lord Ameronis at the battlements.
  
 "So, Theido, it is youl" Ameronis called down from his wall. "And is
 that Ronsard?"
  
 "I want to speak to you, Ameronis. Face to face."
  
  
 "I am sorry, but it seems that the gates have been closed and
 fortified. I cannot open them for you." Ameronis spoke with good
 humor, as if he would gladly forget that the men before him bore
 anything but friendship and goodwill.
  
 "Then allow us to approach, for I have something to tell you that you
 should know before blood is spilled on either side."
  
 "You're wasting your time," muttered Ronsard. "The only thing this
 wolf understands is the broad side of a blade."
  
 "I know," replied Theido. "But those with him are not of the same
 stamp. We may be able to sway them. See? Here they are."
  
 Ronsard.saw several more heads join Ameronis to peer over the wall. "I
 do not see Lord Bdftith among thenL"
  
 "Perhaps be has had the good sense to withdraw before entangling
 himself further in this greedy ogle's plots. That shows, at least,
 that this pack is not of one accord."
  
 "You may approach," shouted Ameroais down to them. "I will listen to
 what you have to say."
  
 FORTY-THREE
  
 "I no not like this, Ameronis," said Lord Kelkin. "If it is ue we hold
 the ransom for the King's son, we must give iL Ide not want the
 Prince's blood on my head."
  
 The friends of Ameronis were gathered with him in his council chambers,
 a room high in the tower keep above the dungeon. The windows were open
 so that the breeze might stir the air, which lay still and heavy in the
 room. Ameronis sat on a sill gazing out across the escarpment toward
 where Theido and Ronsard had retreated only a few minutes before.
 5d55ghforitwhenrodeto5King himself;" said Lupollen. "I did not hear
 you complain then. If it is true that he who holds the sword is King,
 then here is our King!" He gestured to Ameronis, who placed his hands
 on the sill and rose, &cing them, silhouetted in the narrow window.
  
 Lord Denellon muttered beneath his breath, "If he is King, why are we
 hiding behind bolted doors, waiting for a fight?"
  
 Amerorus ignored the remark. "Do you not see that this is tzacdy what
 they wanted?"
  
 The others looked at him askance. "What do you mean?" de mended
 Gorloic. "Speak plainly."
  
 "Oh, but plain it is, sir. It is a trick of theirs to make us
 -relinquish the sword without so much as an arrow exchanged. Theido is
 a crafty old foxi he knew this would cause dissension among us, and
 that is why he spread the lie."
  
 "You doubt him after all that happened in Askelon?" asked Denellon.
  
 "Oh, I do not doubt that the Prince was abducted that is true -enough.
 Most likely he was abducted by simple highwaymen who The Sword cud the
 FAn..
  
 onlywantafowducatsofgoldtolettheboyloOse.Forallweknow, the lad maybe
 free now, the ransom already paid.
  
 "No, this story about the sword being ransom for the Prince and his
 life forfeit if the Shining One is not delivered four days hence-why,
 it is a ruse, and a shabby one at that."
  
 The lords listened to this speech of Ameronis's, spoken calmly and with
 assurance, and frowned not convinced, but swayed somewhat by the sly
 reckoning. At last Kelkin stood and said, "I think we make a grave
 mistake, sirs. And one we will long regret. But we are already
 enjoined and must see the matter through. Aye?"
  
 "Aye," echoed the others. "It is the only course left to us."
  
 "Yes," said Ameronis, nodding as if he, too, had been finally convinced
 by Kelkin's address. "It is the only course open to us. They" he
 pointed out the window "they have forced us toit, and we must see it
 through."
  
 "What answer will you make to them, Ameronis?" asked Lupolien. "It is
 nearly time for them to return for your reply."
  
 "What answer can I make?" Aineronis spread his hands. "I will tell
 them that we cannot give over the sword. I will offer to forgive the
 affront on my honor which has been served me by their pmence if they
 will leave. If not? Well, it is out of my hands."
  
 With that, the lords rose and filed out one by one onto the
 battlements. On the ground below Theido waited alone, having returned
 for the reply to his demand to give up Zhaligkeer.
  
 "Lord Theidn," called down Ameronis, "before I give my answer, I would
 ask a question of you." The other lords on the ramparts with Ameronis
 looked at each other. What was the devious lord uptonow?
  
 "Ask it then," replied Theido from below, leaning with an arm on the
 pommel of his saddle.
  
 "What guarantee have I that ifI give up the sword to you, you will not
 turn and use it in your own bid for the throne?"
  
 "Only a man such as yourself would think such a thing," snapped Theido
 angrily. "You who are true to none believe all men to be as disloyal
 as yourself."
  
 Ameronis merely shrugged. "What guarantee?"
  
 With an effort Theido held down his temper. "I can offer no guarantee
 save my word of honor. But if you prefer, you may ride
  
 I 949 I
  
 with us back to Askelon and place the sword in the hands at the King
 you're"
  
 "With you and your knights as escort?" Ameronis scoflbd. "I would be
 cut down before I rode a half a league."
  
 "Theido's word is good enough for me," replied Lord Kelkin. "As good as
 a King's seal and promise."
  
 "He is oaring a chance so save honor without shedding blood," put in
 Lord Denellon. "I say we should consider it."
  
 "He is offering to have us flayed like trout, my friends. Do you
 suppose he would not seek to punish us once the sword was his?"
  
 "He said we could deliver it into the King's very hands," argued
 Gorloic. "I say we should reconsider."
  
 "And find ourselves in Askelon's dungeons as soon as the sword is
 handed over?" said Lupollen.
  
 "The Dragon King would: do such." said Kelkin. (3orloic and Denelion
 nodded with him in agreement. "We could ask for safe conduct."
  
 "Safe conduct! Hal The only safe conduct we would receive would be
 safe conduct to the beadonan's black!" Ameronis frowned. "No, we dare
 not give up the sword now. As long as we hold it, we hold our lives
 give up the sword gid we are dead mm."
  
 "I am waiting." uaid Theido. "What a your answer?"
  
 "You have my nswer," said Ameronis. "I will not give up the 4wOrd.
 Ifihe Dragon King wants it, lethimcomeandtakeitfrona me hamselfl"
  
 "You realize this is treason "
  
 "Do not speak to me of treason, sir! When lam King, your effrontery
 will be counted treason and we shall see who squirms them Leave this
 place, and take your with you."
  
 "We are charged so bring back the Shining One, and we will achieve our
 purpose. If you have no thought for the King. at least think ashe
 life o(his son."
  
 "A ruse! Be gone; lam tired of talking to you." lam leaving." replied
 Theido coolly. "When next we meet, it will be as sword point You have
 forced us to declare the siege lie gun Theido anapped his reins,
 turned his horse, and galloped beck down the slope. Ronsard was
 waiting for him as the edge of the encampment. The Su."ord and the
 Flame
  
 "How is it with them?" asked the sandy-haired knight.
  
 "You were right, my friend," replied Theido hotly. "It is a jackal's
 den. Though the others with him Gorloic, Kelkin, and Denellon seem
 inclined to reason, they allow themselves to be led astray by his
 smooth tongue."
  
 "So the siege is begun." Ronsard stared off at the castle rising
 before them. "Those walls will not be easy to breach. And we cannot
 starve them out. We muss go over the top."
  
 "Perhaps it will come to that," replied Theido, following Ronsard's
 gaze. "But not yet. I want to examine that fourth side of the castle,
 the west wall on the river."
  
 "How do you propose to do that?"
  
 "It will have to be tonight, under cover of darkness."
  
  
 "Very good. I will arrange a diversion as well; that will mask our
 true purpose. But what do you hope to find?"
  
 "A postern gate. I have never yet been inside a castle that did not
 have a rear entrance of some kind. A man like Ameronis will have a
 secret gate if nothing else-if only we can find it."
  
 Ronsard nodded and added, "If only we can find it in time."
  
 For the rest of the afternoon and into the early evening, the camp
 bustled with activity. The woods nearby rang with the Sound of axes as
 trees were felled and stripped of their branches; men combed the forest
 gathering dry pine needles by the armful; the forge and bellows of the
 smiths sent black smoke rolling up through the trees and into the
 sky.
  
 By nightfall all was in readiness. A pale half-moon rose in the
 treetops, casting a glimmering light upon the escarpment, bleaching the
 castle walls and the granite outcroppinp on the field rhite as dead
 men's bones.
  
 "All is in readiness," said Ronsard. He came so stand beside Theido
 who was instructing a group of knights he had chosen for the night
 sortie.
  
 "Good. We are ready here too." Theido dismissed the men, saying,
 "Rest now. I will sound the call when it is time to go." The knights
 departed into the darkness, leaving Theido and Ronsard alone with the
 embers of a slowly dying fire. "Now to wait. The
  
 I 951 I
  
 moon will be well down in a fow hours; is should be dark enough then to
 move without being seen."
  
 "Once we stars in, nos a soul in Ameron Castle will think to look for
 you. I will make certain of that."
  
 "How long can you keep up the diversion?"
  
 "As long as you require is. We are well-provided."
  
 Theido sighed, "Alt, well, then all is ready. We may as well sake some
 rest too. We mint have our wits about in if we are to beard the lion
 in his den."
  
 FORTY FOUR
  
 AT THE edge at she wood the two parties mumbled: one a force at two
 score monet-arms, she other adorn handpicked knights. The moon had
 climbed the night sky and auth down behind the trees atPelgrin, and
 full darkness lay upon the land. The castle rose before sham on she
 slope, a massive black shape in the greater darkness. Bus for the
 blazing stars shining down like the fires of a celestial host eocamped,
 the besiegers would not have had enough light to find their way.
  
 "We will give you enough time so get into position," said Ronsard.
 "You will know when she diversion starts, I daresay. With any luck the
 whole castle will soon be awakened to the alarm." Theido nodded. "We
 will be ready. Do not get careless, and stay well out of arrow range.
 There is no need for anyone so get hurt tonight. Yours le not the risk
 at least not yet."
  
 "We will keep out of bowahot, never fear," Ronsard assured him. "See
 that yost do the same."
  
 With that the tw, men parted company, Theido leading his knights off
 into the woods, making for the river bank where the The Swmf and the
 Ffrie slow Sipleth flowed dark and silent. After walking what seemed a
 lifetime through the wood, the knights came upon Sipleth's east bank.
 The sound of moving water eddying and curling as it slipped along its
 shores told them that they had reached the first stage of their
 journey.
  
 Walking silently, their tools and weapons muffled to prevent any sound,
 the small force turned and filed along the river bank, proceeding
 toward the castle. Presently the river broadened, flattening as it
 bent around the castle rock. The bank rose to form a cliff above the
 black water, unseen except for the winking glint, here and there, of
 starlight on a ripple in the current.
  
 The knights made their way up the rising cliff side fighting through
 tangles of nettles and bramble thickets along the way. Their labors
 were rewarded when Theido at last halted their progrem and passed the
 whispered word back along the file: "The castle is just ahead. We
 wait."
  
 Ahead, right to the very edge of the clifl stood the west wall of
 Castle Ameron. The raiding party knelt down in the path to wait for
 the signal. It was not long in coming, for as the knights waited
 silently below the curtain, there came a shout from above, far-off.
 "Fire!" This call was echoed by another and another all along the
 batilements. Then the knights heard the clatter of feet rating along
 the high walls directly over their heads as the cry resounded,
 "Fire!"
  
 Still Theido waited, holding up his hand to stay his men. "Hold," he
 whispered. "Give it time."
  
 Now the alarm cries could be heard echoing through the castle yards and
 along the furthermost battlements. But nothing more was heard from
 directly above; so Theido, moving stealthily, crept forward to the
 western wall beneath the tower and along the curtain, walking the
 entire length, gazing upward as he passed.
  
 He was back momentarily, aying, "It worked. The watch has withdrawn to
 the farsideofthe Gastle. Wehavelittle time, so let us work quickly.
 Go."
  
 The knights leapt to action at once. Coils of rope were produced and
 heavy stakes driven into the ground. The ropes were attached to the
 stakes, and knights began lowering themselves over the edge of the
 cliff to the river below. Theido and two archers reI 953 I
  
 mained beneath the walls to protect the ropes while their comrades were
 vulnerable below.
  
 When the last knight had disappeared over the edge Theido said, "Now we
 wait once more. Stay back close to the wall in case the tower watch
 returns, and keep sharp for my signal."
  
 The two knights melted beck into the darkness beneath the tower wall.
 Theido, too, stepped back from the edge of the cliff, sitting down with
 his back against the immense curtain of stone to wait, praying that the
 watchmen would not return soon.
  
 Theido need not have concerned himself ;, for at that moment every
 available man under Lord Ameronis's command was either lofting buckets
 of water to quench the fires burning in the ward yards, or lining the
 eastern wall with bow and arrows, in an attempt to prevent the siege
 force from sending more fireballs their way.
  
 For when Theido's party departed, Ronsard and his force had waited
 until they were wail away and then moved out upon the field, dragging
 with them the crude caapults that had been constructed that very day.
 There were two of them, ungraceful machines of rough timber and rope;
 long poles of ash with slings at one end and counterweights of stone at
 the other were lashed to sturdy sledges of pine. Along with the
 catapults were two wagonloeds of baled pine needles, under dry and
 awaiting the spark which would set them roaring into flame.
  
 Teams of horses positioned the catapults one below each fkcing tower on
 either side of the gatehouse just out of reach of the most determined
 bowman. Once in position, the horses were unhitched and led back to
 camp, and the war machines securely anchored to the ground with ropes
 and stakes. Ar Ronsard's signal two riders came galloping from the
 campground with flaming torches, and the fire storming of Ameron Castle
 began.
  
 The first bales were loaded into the slings, the catapults set, and the
 torch applied. Instantly the bale of pine needles burst into flame and
 the catapult released. Fwshh! The fireball soared through the air,
 describing a perfect arc toward the wall. In almost the same in. tant
 a second fireball swooped in from the opposite side.
  
 The first missile cleared the wall and battlements and fell i the ward
 yard. The second missile fell short, striking the upper se The Sv.rord
 and the Flame tion of the stone wall and sliding back to earth at the
 foot of the wa
  
 "Take over, Sir Ban," commanded Ronsard. "And keep them coming." He
 dashed off to help realign the second catapulr, it took a few minutes
 to shift the counterweight and lengthen the throw pole, but before the
 alarm had spread very far through the castle, the second catapult was
 hurling fire through the skies with deadly accuracy.
  
 "There!" remarked Ronsard proudly, watching a fireball burn through
 the air to fell well inside the inner ward yard. "This should keep

 them busy most of the night."
  
 Archers took to the walls and sent arrow after arrow streaking toward
 the dimly-outlined men tending the catapults. But Ronsard had
 correctly estimated the distance, and arrows fell spent to the ground,
 short of the mark. This brought cries of outrage and thistration from
 those on the battlements, and jeers in reply from those on the ground,
 as missile after missile lit the night sky with roaring flames.
  
 Lord Ameronis was summoned from his bedchamber as soon as the first
 flames appeared in the ward yard-a firebsil bad fell en on the stable
 roof and burst, scattering flames among the straw ana fixider below.
 Frightened horses screamed and bucked as squlres and footmen braved the
 flames in an effort to bring the horses to safety, thus turning the
 entire inner ward yard into a sea of churn mug chaos. Another fire
 burned near the kitchens.
  
 Ameronis stood with his fists on his hips, barking orders to those
 around him, all the while seething with a rage at the attack under way.
 Up to now, the ambitious noble had considered the contest something
 of a game where the tjoils went to the winner. Now he saw that the
 King's forces were in dead earnest, and his demeanor changed
 abruptly.
  
 "More buckets!" he bei lowed "Bring more buckets!" He stood in the
 midst of the riotous confusion, shouting above the noise as men darted
 everywhere in an attempt to save the stables.
  
 The fire was not large; it had been caught in time and was soon under
 controL Anieronisleft the inner ward yard and mounted the
  
 / 955 I
  
 battlements, bristling with anger. "Any luck with the archers?" he
 asked his commander, Sir Boha
  
 The young knight turned, his fhce ruddy in the torchlight and the
 lights of several small fires in the outer ward. "No, sir, the enemy
 is too &r removed."
  
 "Any damage?"
  
 "None in the outer ward. The fireballs seem intended mostly to harass
 us. There is no real hurt. The fires are easily extinguished."
  
 "Not so easily!" snorted Ameronis. If you had been with me in the
 inner ward yard just now, you would have seen the harassmenz' these
 missiles can do." He glared out between the merlom at the torchlight
 glimmering on the field; this marked the position of the catapults.
 Just then a fireball smashed into the gatehouse turret and rolled down
 its pitched roof onto the wall. A dozen warnors threw down their
 weapons and dodged away. "I could send a contingent out to put a stop
 to this," suggested the young commander. In the dancing firelight his
 eyes glittered with the excitement of a man ready to brave any danger in
 order to distinguish himself and win favor in the eyes of his
 superior.
  
 "What? And open the getes to thesis? That is just whet they want us
 to do!" shouted Ames,onia. "Use your head, man! We will weather the
 attack as best as can and wait until morning attack as best as can and
 wait until morning."
  
 "I am sorry, sir," muttered the young knight. "I only thought "
  
 "Wait!" said.Ameronis, glancing up and down along the battlements.
 "Who is standing watch on the other walls?"
  
 "No .... .." replied the commander hesitantly. "When the alarm was
 sounded, they must have comi to help "
  
 "Send the tower watch back to their sts at once! Have them report to
 me immediately if they see anything amiss! Hurry! Who knows what
 these dogs of King's men may be about!"
  
 "Did you find anything?" Theido lay on his stomach at the edge of the
 cliff and called down to the man dangling on a rope below hi
  
 "There is a narrow shingle along the water's edge, sir. It ron. The
 Suow d and the Flame all along the bank below the cliff. We have sent
 men to scout it both directions, but have found nothing yet."
  
 "Continue," said Theido, rising to his feet. Just then there came a
 voice from the battlements above.
  
 "Halt! Who is there?"
  
 Theido's heart denched in his chest.
  
 Half-crouched, half-standing, he remained rock-still, hoping that
 whoever was above him would not see him directly below, an easy target

 for even the poorest marksman.
  
 "Hey!" called the voice above. "Bring your torch over here! I think
 there is someone below."
  
 Theido heard footsteps come running as a second guard joined the first
 with his torch. He held his breath, fully expecting an arrow to come
 singing to its mark at any second. One ht... two three. Then "There's
 nothing down there, maggot-brain," said a second voice drifting down
 from the battlements. "You are seeing shadows and thinking them
 soldiers. Get to your post, and do not call me again unless you see
 something more than a shadow on the rocks."
  
 The first soldier grumbled and moved on to his place in the tower.
 Theido released his breath and drew back to the wall to wait. From
 either side of him at a distance of no more than twentv paces, he heard
 the soft footfall of his archers withdrawing and realized that as soon
 as the guard had discovered him, two arrows had been notched to their
 strings and those strings drawn taut. Had either guard so much as

 squeaked a warning, the man would have been dead before the words were
 out of his mouth.
  
 Theido drew his cloak over him and leaned back against the hard
 curtain. Random shonts still echoed from beyond the walls of the
 castle, but the initial frenzy which had greeted the first volley of
 fireballs had died away. To the east the sky held a lighter hue,
 tinting the sky iron-blue against the black. Hurry, whispered Theido
 to himself. Hurry!  Dawn is coming, and we must soon be gone or be
 discovered. Hurry, there is so little time.
  
 FORTY-FIVE
  
 STA3S DIMMED in the east, and their numbers dwindled as the sky
 lightened to dawn. Raisard and his force still manned the catapults,
 but the fireballs soared less frequently now. "We are running out of
 bales," reported one of his men. "These are the las"
  
 Roosard cocked an eye skyward and said, "The others should have
 returned b7 now. Hold as long as you an. With any luck they will come
 before first light."
  
 Hurry! thought Imasard. Hurry, before they find out.... For one
 fleeting heartbeat he wondered, What if they have already found out?
 He dismssed the thought instantly telling himself; Somehow we would
 have known.
  
 The sandy-haired knight turned his eyes toward the ragged line of
 forest nit sleiedsntmee the 4Wf. Frqm here Theido and hi party would
 aaw no ouc. )b figure hailed him from the trep, and nt ssepgw came to
 tell him that all was well, that the raiding psny had returnad safely.
  
 "Come ma," whiqiered Rnmssrd.. "It will be daylight soon!"
  
 The catepults flashed, hurling their flaming missiles to the castle
 wails which could be plainly seen now, showing dull and imposing in the
 feeble light. But the interval between projectiles had stretched to
 several minutes, and though the enemy still lined the walls and
 scurried to put out each new blaze, they did not shout and rail at the
 foe anymore, but merely watched with casual interest as if bored by the
 long-running spectacle.
  
 There was a shout and a man came running up from the second machine,
 saying, "Sir, the bales are gone, and we have nothing else to throw at
 them." He waited for Ronsard's leading. The ami i.Thsm
  
 "We st continue a little longer. Send same men back to camp, ready
 same mare bales have the others there help. We vii need enough for
 bosh catapults. Meanwhile, we must keep the attention ofthaae an the
 wall; so have your men mom to a new pasitian while yan are waiting for
 your amunitian." He painted warn the field. "There mare toward the

 center
  
 The soldier hurried off to wry out his orders. Ronsard creased his
 arma on his chest mad frowned at the sky; "You should have been back
 lang ago, Theklo. Shall I sends search party after you?"
  
 He decided to wait a little longer and began pacing back and forth
 between the catapults, glancing now and again toward the flinge of
 forest where he eapecred his cone rede to emerge at any mont.
  
 The son burned the horizon, flaming the sky bright red beneath the pay
 clouds. The outlines of the castle could be made out dearly new, and
 block .i&. drifted on the rising wind from the numerom saul fires they
 had set through the night. At least, thought Ronsard grimly, we have
 kept them busy this night, and none of our own have been hurt.
  
 When the na returned, carrying mare bales of pine needles mid branches,
 Ronsard ordered the traqis to be changed. Fresh soldiers took over for
 those who had winked through the right, relieving them so they might go
 so their well-earned rest. The new contingent fell to with a meal, mid
 the catapulting continued.
  
 Romard, Increasingly in ious over his friend's delay, placed command of
 the ames in a subordinate's has ada and returned to camp to form a
 search party to go after Theido mid his band. He had asse md the men,
 and they had armed themselves accordingly and were about to start off
 on the trail Theido had himself taken when a voice hailed them from the
 forest. Hol Ronsardi"
  
 The knight spun on his heel and met the returning party coming toward
 them through the forest, their faces 4rawn with fatigue, but adopting a
 jaunty air for their comrades.
  
 "We were just setting off to look for you. You were due back long
 ago."
  
 "I began to think we would never leave. The watch returned to the

 towers and wall, and we were trapped below the
  
 I 959 I
  
 cliff. We had to wait until the guard changed before we could move'
  
 "Well? Am I to guess the rest?"
  
 "We found ir the secret postern entrance. Ameronis is clever, and it
 took us all tiight, but we found it."
  
 At this Roninard and his search party broke our in cheers for their
 comrades, clapping them on the backs and shaking their hands. "Where
 is it? Tell we everything you know about it."
  
 Theido dismissed his men to their rest, and he and Ronsard walked to
 the tent that had been raised for them as their command post and
 private chambers. Inside, they sat down on benches facing one another
 across a rough-hewn table. "At first it did not appear that we would
 find an entrance secret or otherwise. The cliff below the west wall is
 smooth-faced and drops away at a sharp angle to the water. But below
 is a narrow shingle a man may walk along " He paused and pointed to a
 jug. "I could use a drink of water.
  
 Ronsard snatched the jug, poured, and handed Theido the cup. "Go on, go
 on. What did you find?"
  
 "That is much better," Theido replied. "Now then ... yes, the river
 bends around the castle rock, and if you follow it far enough you will
 find that the shore widens as it passes the rock. Here" he traced with
 his fingers on the table before rhem "and here the forest comes down to
 the water's edge. I sent the men up along this lower bank as far as it
 went before it flattened out to the waterline agm
  
 "We found nothing at first. On the second sweep along the bank, one of
 the men founds cave well up on the cliff face Small, but large enough
 for a man to squeeze through. It was hidden by juniper scrub, so was
 un possible to see from the northern approach. But from the
 opposite direction it could be spotted. They climbed up into the cave
 mouth and found that not more than haIfa dozen paces inside, the cave
 becomes a tunnel."
  
 "Yes," Theido affirmed. "The tunnel, though long and winding like a
 snake, leads to a portcullis of iron and a gate beyond."
  
 "Right into the heart of Ameronis' lair. Well done! Well done, The
 Swmi end i Rauw
  
 Indeed!" He beamed at his friend. "This was a night well spent."
 Immediately the knight's mind began making calculations, racing ahead
 to make plans for the campaign to follow. "Can we cut through the
 ironwork?"
  
 "Yes," replied Theido with a yawn. "I did not see the gate, and we had
 no torches to properly examine the tunnel all had to be explored in the
 dark but the tunnel is not large, so they were able to at least reach
 the portcullis without difficulty. But yes, it can be cut through
 given enough time. The iron is thick, and appears to be well made. It
 will take time."
  
 "Then we must begin at once." He saw the look on Theido's face and
 asked, "Can we reach the tunnel in daylight without being sen
  
 "No." Theido shook his head wearily. "Ax least not by land. But there
 is a chance that if we go by water, hugging close to the riverbank
 below the walls, we can reach it without being seen from above"
  
 "Swim?"
  
 "Too difficult. We could not cariy the tools we would need."
  
 "We have no boats."
  
 "Rafts. We must construct two rafts of size enough to hold a dozen men
 each with equipment and weapons."

  
 Ron Sard stared across the table. "That will take a day at least, maybe
 two." "We have no better choice that I can see. Scaling the walls
 without help from inside is our last resort. The foe is well better
 provisioned than we are-and we cannot
 waitforthemtobeweakeneclbytheslege.Noithesccretgatisthe only way."
  
 Romard fell silent at he turned the matter over in his head. Finally,
 he achnitted that Theido was right and said, "In that case, I must not
 waste tune sitting here.! will have the carpenters begin constructing
 the rafts at once" He stoocito leave. "You look weary to the bone.
 Sleep nov, I will attend to the raft building and summon you if there
 is any need." He moved to the entrance and held back the flap,
 hesitated, and said, "We will win, Theido."
  
 Ronsard's voice asked for confirmation. Theido, always so certain
 before, so sure that the right would win out in the end, could not mns
 that same strength at conviction now. For once it seemed if despite .1
 they might do they would nor prevail, that the evil which had poisanod
 the realm so swiftly had achieved its end already and they were
 powerless to turn saide its effects.
  
 Ronmard's statement hegged comfirinstion. Theido lifted his shoulders
 and sighed, "I wish I knew, brave Mend."
  
 Romard lingered, watching him. Theido rubbed his face with his hands,
 and yawned. "It has been a long night," he said. "I am tired." At
 last Ronsard turned his face away, looking out into the camp, but nor
 seeing the men moving there, cooking their breakfasts before die fire,
 carrying firewood and water, looking after their weapom and the hones
 The light shining on his face, his jaw flexed and set, Ronsard stepped
 outside, leaving Theido to his sleep.
  
 FORTY SIX
  
 QUENTIN SThLID dw high wall walks cC the castle. Restless, unable to
 sleep, ha pseed that lmrtimasaM battlesuents, his shut desk flying mat
 bsh1 II him IRe his heir streaming back from his head iii wild dimrmy.
 To any who saw him, the King appeared a mwme mind. roaming the high
 places in the dead at night like these unhappy spirits who haunted the
 de.ohu pisces
  
 The King himself was not aware o(what he was doing. He only knew that
 he could tsar remain still any looges he must move, wallc go, and keep
 going lest he fall under the weight of the blackness which had crept
 into his heart. He bad wrestled with it often
 enougixuarhehstdeystoknowthathecauldnotwinapinstiz.k held him ins death
 grip, and meant so drag him down into the dust The Sa,d wad the Flame

  
 So, to hold the inevitable at bay yet a little longer, he prowled the
 walls by night, in the light of a pale sickle moon, like an animal
 half-crazed with pain. Quentin felt the night press in upon him,
 enfolding him in its velvet embrace, smothering him. He stared out
 across the land eastward and saw the dark line of Peigrin hedging the
 broad, flat plain. Beyond Peigrin, further east and north, lay
 Narramoor and the High Temple on its flat table of stone, overlooking
 the entire kingdom.
  
 Somewhere within that temple his son waited for him to come and rescue
 him, waited as he himself had waited as a boy for someone to carry him
 away from that place. And he had been rescued by a dying knight who
 placed in his hands a charge that he alone could fulfilL h those days
 it had been easy easy to believe, easy to follow without asking for
 signs or assurances, or at least without requiring them at every
 turn.
  
 Now it was much harder. He was no longer the simple, trusting acolyte
 with neither home nor family, and nothing much to lose. He was the
 Dragon King, leader of his people, protector of the realm.
  
 Sadly, he had not been much of a protector of late. He had not been
 able to prevent Durwin's death, nor his son's kidnapping, nor any of
 the host of problems that so beset him The god had removed his hand
 from him, bad taken the blessing that was given td him and had
 departed, leaving him alone and helpless.
  
 So be iL The god had moved away, had abandoned him as gods wilL He
 could do nothing about that; he was only a man, after all. The business
 of the gods was for the gods; mortals could not influence or change
 affairs once the gods had spoken. And though Quentin had believed
 wonderful things, incredible things about the God Most High, and had
 trusted him with his life and the lives of those he loved, the god,
 like all gods, had ultimately disappointed him.
  
 Still, he had a choice. He could abandon his faith in the Most High
 and reclaim his life for himself; or he could continue believing,
 continue serving and trusting, even though there was no good reason to
 continue, even though all good reason said to cast off the belief that
 had so long bound him in blind trust to a god who lied when he claimed
 to care about his children. Where was there ever a god who so much aq
 pretended to care for his followers? None of the old gods, surely.
 None that he had ever learned about in the /963/
  
 temple. If the ways of the gods were beyond the reckoning omen,
 thenatleastkmademoresensetobelieveintheomyonewho out the hope of
 something greater than the pitiful rituals played out by the scurrilous
 priests of the High Temple.
  
 The old gods? Those ancient ethereal impostors? Those vague,
 capricious forces men called upon, worshiped, and revered with the
 names of gods? How could he believe in them, knowing them for what they
 were? As an acolyte, he had served long enough in the temple to learn
 that a priest's fleshly lips applied to a hole in the stone brought
 forth the god's oracle, and a priest's avaricious whim became the god's
 demand.
  
 At least the God Most High shunned oracles and objects of silver and
 gold as sacrifices to win his favor. When he spoke it was directly,
 and with power. Yes, Quentin had felt the power. Even if he did not
 feel it now and would perhaps never feel it again, he would forever
 remember the time when he had known beyond all doubt that the god had
 spoken and empowered him.
  
 This was more than mumbled words whispered through a speaking hole
 hidden in a stone. There was hope here, and that was something the old
 gods of earth and air, of crossroads and high places, of flowing water
 and seasons, could never give. Quentin could still remember what it
 was like to live without that hope, could still remember the aching
 despair that would come on him
 whenasaboyhelayonhisstrawmatinhistemplecellandprayed in the night to be
 shown the truth. He would wait, listen, and wait some more, only to
 have his words fall back upon him, mocking from the silept void..
  
 No, baying found the hope he had so long sought, Quentin would not
 ban don it now. He could not live without hope, for without it there
 was no life at all. Better a life without sight, or touch, or taste,
 or any of a dozen other faculties, including love, than a life without
 hope. He knew that road for what it was and would not travel that way
 again.
  
 At Dekra ho had seen the difference for the first time, had seen the
 sharp contrast between the hollow sham of the old religion and the true
 faith. Ab, Dekra... with her good, caring people and her quiet ways.
 Was he never destined to return and live out his days in peace,
 surrounded by love and beauty? Sadly no. His course hail The Sawd aud
 the Thu.
  
 ben chosen for him, and It did not include Dekra Quentin knew thgt no
  
 Nut somehow it waoh mu* to know that such a place existed on the eat th
 that 1* cul6 go there on occasion to revive his spirit. Te tuiou he
 could accept it. For he would always catty a dIWEekrs *9th him
 wherever he was.
  
 If the god che xIrlfbedidnot,sobeit.He could not rule ihdef god would
 allow himself to be so ruled? But 4,en ting cotM<*ws That he could dn,
 and even the Moat High could not prevuk Ha could believe and hope
 though it cost him his crown, though 9tt Ide lifl
  
 In that moment the choice became dew. Qucutin no longer cared what the
 god could do for him. He would believe though it proved to be his
 downfhll he would continue to trust though the god himself pibve
 untrustworthy. Yeseph had believed, and he had died believing. Durwin
 had believed and he, too, carried his faith to the grave. Very well;
 Quentin would do no less than the men he had loved, and who had shown
 him how to believe. He would believe a, would fellow with all the
 strength left in him. 1'hat settled, Quentin turned his eyes once more
 toward the High Temple. Though he could net see it in the distance, he
 knew that it was there, perched on its plateau like a carrion bird
 awaibng its next feast of dead meat. Yes, his son waited within those
 walls, waited for him to come. He would go to him. Could he call
 himself "father' ifhe did-not? If it meant giving up the sword, he
 would go. What kind of King would he be ifhe el lowed his only son, heir
 to the throne, to be killed while he had strength and will to prevent
 it?
  
 The two large rafts, made of lop lashed together with rope, slid into
 the night-dark water of the Sipleth while dozen soldiers clam bored
 aboard each, taking with th sui weapons end tools for breaking through
 the iron portcullis and gate guarding the secret rear entrance to
 Anieron Castle.
  
 Once each raft was loaded and the passengers settled in the center, the
 pole men shoved the ungainly vessels out into the river's sluggish
 current.  Traveling against the flow would not be easy, but along the
 bauk the wter's pull was not strong, and the pole men were able twork
 their rude crafts slowly up the river.
  
 I 965 I
  
 Theido ast with his men in the center of the foremost raft as they
 laboriously made their way upstream to the place below the walls where
 the bank offered them a footing so they could disembark and make for
 the cave entrance.
  
 Throughout the day the carpenters had slaved over the building of the
 rafts, and though they were far from elegant, Theido was relieved to
 discover that the crude, blockish platforms floated well enough. Dy
 nightfall they were ready and he ordered them launched in order to
 tithe advantage of night's protection to farther veil their activities.
 He had no doubt that if even the smallest sound aroused the night
 watch posted on the wail, they would be discovered and their plans
 ruined. If Ameronis as much as suspected that they had discovered his
 secret tunnel, defending it would not be a problema trio of archers
 could keep any number of knights pinned down.
  
 Now Theido crouched with his knights and listened to the water sloshing
 and splashing by them as they slid along the brush covered banks, hoping
 against all hope that they would not be heard or seen passing beneath
 the walls. The poleaen worked the poles and drove the rafts forward,
 keepinguclase to the shoreline as poe. atble. After what-seemed like
 hours, they came to the-place where the castle rock roe up and the
 river pushed its way around it, carvmug into the cliff of stone.
 Moving cautiously and with agonizing slowness-for the towers rose un amp
 directly above them the rafts inched fotward. Straining into the
 night, Theido scanned the Cliff face for the sign he soaght-4ms4sssiper
 bashes concealing the cave.
  
 As they rounded the beot(the rock, Sir Garth, who had been with him the
 night before when they discovered the tunnel, and had himself been
 inside It, raised an arm silently and pointed to a spot along the bank
 halfway up the cliff. There it was; Theido could just make out the
 place U rk spot against the lighter stone of the cliff. He nodded
 sikaly. Yes, they were almost there.
  
 The first raft nosed into the sway shingle, grating softly as it came
 to rest. The nearest ties scrambled ashore and begun unloading the
 weapons and equipment, and then the others followed, The second raft
 pushed up bslnd e first, and those aboard made to disembark, but an
 overanulosts departure by the first soldiers gerously unbalaaced the
 craft and the raft tipped, throwing there maining passengers into the
 river with a tremendous sidasiL The Suerd and the Flame
  
 Thee on shore froze, hearts pounding while their comrades swam Wabore
 and dragged themselves out as quietly as possible. Each u.n held his
 breath and prayed that the sound would go unnoticed.
  
 They waited
  
 From somewhere high up on the wall above them they heard a shout which
 was answered by another shout. The words were not distinguishable, but

 Theido guessed that one watchman had called to another to ask about the
 commotion. Then there came the sound of voices drifting down from
 above-someone was leaning over the battlements to see what had caused
 the splash.
  
 Theido raised his hand to indicate that everyone remain as still as
 stone. For a dozen heartbeats he relived his adventure of the night
 before when he had nearly been discovered. Then there came a call
 those below heard it plainly. "All clear," the voice said. The men
 huddled below breathed a sigh of relief
  
 Theido signaled for the men to resume their work, and the rafts,
 unloaded now, were poled up river a little way and hidden among the
 brush of the bank where the shore flattened and the for eat grew close
 to the water. The zest oEthe soldiers formed a human chain and began
 passing the equipment from hand to hand up the side o(the cliff and
 into the mouth of the cave.
  
 Sir Garth and Theido climbed to the cave and crawled inside. Garth
 produced a flint and steel and found one of the torches among the
 supplies being stacked at the entrance. In a moment he had the torch
 flaming brightly and said, "Now we will see what we are up against."
  
 Holding the torch high, he led Theidti deeper into the cave. They
 passed along narrow walls no wider than a gallery corridor and came to
 the furthermost wall of te cave. Here an entrance had been opened and
 a tunnel cut into the soft rock. "Ages past, the river hollowed this
 cave. When the castle was built here, someone discovered it and
 connected it with this passage," said Garth, pting to the
 smooth-chiseled surface of the stone.
  
 He lowered his head and stepped into the tunnel. Theido followed. It
 was narrow narrower thus she cave, with room enough for only one mau to
 pass comfortably. The secret passage led upward and in a slight
 incline as it made for the castle above. The 1967/
  
 floor was dry au 4usty for the most part, but as it neared the gate
 Theido noticed ater seeping down the sides of the walk Garth indicated
 this lith his torch, saying, "We are passing beneath the castle
 cistern, iho doubt."
  
 Presently they came to a place where the tunnel walls widened a span
 and there just ahead stood the iron portcullis, glimmering darkly in
 the torchlight. the "There it is," said Garth, placing the torch in a
 sconce set into stone at the edge of the gateway. "And now that I see
 it in the light, I see that it is much sturdier than I had first
 imagined." He ran his hand over he iron, feeling its thickness and
 strength.
  
 "Yes," agreed Theido, "it is well made, as anyone might have guessed
 who knew Ameronis and his kin. And.it looks in good repair.
  
 "Not a speck of rust, my lord."
  
 "The smiths have their work ahead of them. All the more reason to get
 them at iL"
  
 "Right away, sir." Garth turned and started back through the darkened
 tunnel.
  
 "And, Garth," said Theido, "have the weapons brought here. I would
 have them dose to hand." The knight left, and Theido returned to his
 scrutiny of the iron barrier before him. Could they cut through it in
 time? And once through, what would they find on the other side?
  
 FORTY-SEVEN
  
 BIuA tin risen long before daylight, and roused their bodyguard to
 begin readying the coach and horses for the day's journey. In two days
 they had made good time through the soggy moorland between the low
 mountains of Dekra and Malmarby, and by night The Princess started at
 the sound of her name. She turned and saw Bria sitting beside bet; she
 had not noticed her friend approach.
  
 "Esmel What is happeni to you?"
  
 Esme grasped Bria's hands and held them, turning her eyes once more
 toward the wall. "I have had another vision; the god has spoken to me
 again." She stared at Celbercor's Wall rising bold and impervious
 before them and then shuddered as if with cold, looked around at Bria,
 and said earnestly, "We must go to the temple, Bria."
  
 Dna searched her friend's fhce for a sign, for anything which would
 explain her words. "Are you certain? The temple? Why?"
  
 Esme pressed Dna's hands harder. "I am' certain. Please, we must not
 return to Askelon. The temple I saw it clearly."
  
 "What else did you see?"
  
 "Just that. The wall changed and became a temple-and priests. Twice I
 have seen priests. This is the confirmation of my vision. Something
 is to take place at the temple, and we must be there"
  
 Bnia nodded and said, "I, too, have felt uneasy since we left Dekra, as
 if I were being prodded along and urged to haste. But the mple what
 about Quentin?"
  
 Eame shook her head. "I do not know. I did not see him, but there was
 a throng assembled in the courtyard of the temple, and I knew that we
 must be among them."
  
 Bria bit her lip, then weighed the decision.
  
 "Please," said Esme, "the certainty of what I have seen is strong in
 me. I know it is a sign from the Most High."
  
 "Very well," replied the Queen slowly. "We will turn aside and ride
 for Narramoor and the High Temple. And let us pray that we arrive in
 time todo whatever it is that the god intendeforus."
  
 "Yea," said Esme, "that will be my prayer."
  
 All day long Roasard waited at his post on the edge of the field. He
 watched as the sun swam the treetops, ossed the vault of the heavens,
 and began its downward descent toward ewg, and still no word came from
 Theido. The main body of knights and fighting men waited restlessly,
 burnishing lance and sword and tending to
  
 I 971 I
  
 their armor, making sure it was in good repair. When the signal came
 from Theido, Ronsard would lead his troops into battle to storm the
 walls of the castle.
  
 For his part, Theido and his men were to come up through the castle by
 way of the hidden passage, sneaking in behind Ameronis's troops to open
 the gates for their comrades. he the signal had not come, and that
 could only mean that the secret gate had not been breached.
  
 So, as twilight -lengthened the shadows of the forest encamp. meat,
 Ronsard gave the order to stand down. "We cannot attempt the walls in
 the dark," he said. "But tomorrow secret gate or no we must fight.
 There is no more time to wait." He turned to his commander, gave him
 instructions for the men, and turned my from the field, saying, "I will
 be in my tent if any messages come."
  
 Throughout the camp men began taking off their armor and laying aside
 their weapons. Ronsard, too, removed his breastplate and gorget upon
 entering the tent, went to the basin standing on its tripod, dipped his
 hands into the cool water, and splashed his face.
  
 Another day gone, he thought, and now there are no more days. It must be
 tomorrow. Tomorrow or the King's son will die. He stood over the
 basin, his hands dripping, and stared through the side of the tent,
 picturing the little Prince captive in the clutches of the loathsome
 High Priest. He saw the boy bound and placed on the altar and the
 dagger plunged into his trusting heart.
  
 "No!" he cried aloud, slamming his hand into the basin. Water
 splashed everywhere and sloshed over the rim. "Not while I have breath
 in my body will they harm that boyl" he vowed. He heard a sound behind
 him and said to his squire, "Hand me a cloth," putting out his hand to
 receive it.
  
 "I, too, have made a similar vow."
  
 Ronsard looked up and noticed for the first time who his visitor was.
 "Quentin! You Your Majestyi I thought
  
 Quentin smiled thinly. "I know what you thought. But never mind.
 Here" he handed the dripping knight a strip of clean linen "dry
 yourself and we will talk."
  
 The King threw off his riding gloves and cloak and sat down on one of
 the benches at the table. Ronsard ran the towel over his face lbudMu
 and dried his hands, all the while saudying them be fare him ass might
 study a who I'm suddenly and unezpe* edly arisen from his sIckbed. lam
 tired. Rnm.rd. It is a lang ride from Askelosm. I wonder r1w
 Ameroeais has the will to make the trip often as ha seems to. But
 then. he always did sit a strong saddle."
  
 "Sire, allow me to sued far something to eat. I was about to get some
 food far myself?"
  
 "Yes, do that. I am hungry as well. I have eaten nothing all day."
  
 "You must be starved!" Rnmard fairly shouted, far here before him sat
 the King. who to all appear ats seemed In his right mind. Romard could
 detect none of the melancholy that he had so incently seen in his
 blend. True, his manner was grave beneath the forced civility of his
 aspect; dearly the King struggled to show him self composed. And
 fatigue sat on his a1wilders like a burden, bending him over, draining
 his features of color.
  
 But he had come, and he spoke as one who knew what he was doing, who
 had purpose and reason behiad his scuiom. Surely this was the very
 best sign.
  
 Ramerd crossed to the teat flap sal called to a squire to bring food
 and drink, then returned a moment later. "Sire, it is good to see you.
  We ... that is, we were afraid "
  
 "You were afluid your King had deserted you completely." To Romard's
 look he added, "Well, yen wan right. I had deserted you.
 Isemyououttofightmybattlefarmewhilelstayedwithinmy own wIle and ate out
 my heart with self pity and grief. But no more. Though I have but one
 day to be King, then King I will be not a coward."
  
 It heartened Roasard to hear Queptin talk this way with fire in his
 voice, and his tone resolute. "Sit, my friend," said Quentin, "med
 tell me bow the maner stands."
  
 Ronsard lowered himself to the berch opposite, leaned on his elbows,
 end begun to recite all that had taken place since they had come to A
 ron-on-Sipleik. While they talked, the squire entered with their meal
 and laid it en the table before them. Romurd motioned the young away,
 indicating that they wished to be left alone and would serve
 themelveL
  
 Quentin listened intently, nodding now and again as he ate, dip.
  
 I 973 /
  
 ping his hand to his trencher. He raised his cup and drained it when
 Romard had finished and said, "You and Theido have done well. I am
 pleased."
  
 "Sire, will you lead the troops tomorrow?"
  
 Quentin considered this and then inclined his head in ascent. "Ameronis
 mint be made to face his King if he would wear the crown. Yes, I will
 lead. He must see me riding at the head of my army, and know who it is
 he would overthrow."
  
 Ronsard ami led "Excellent! Yes, that is the Quentin I know! Those
 jackals will tarn tail and run!"
  
 "You know that I would not lift blade against them if it could be
 avoided. I would not that a single nun were hurt. But my son's life
 is at stake, and I must not fail him."
  
 Ronsard opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, and closed it
 again. But Quentin said, "What is it? Speak we know each other too
 well to hold back."
  
 "As you say, my lord," Ronsard began, then hesitated once more. "Sire,
 the words come hard."
  
 "They will come no easier for holding than."
  
 The stalwart knight turned his face away and said, "What will you do if
 we fail to regain the sword?"
  
 "That I cannot say. If! thought riding with an armed force to the
 High Temple was the answer, I would have done it without delay. But I
 dore not risk the danger tomy son, Ronsard. We must in all events try
 to recover the Shining One." He paused, adding in a quiet voice,
 "Failing that, we must trust in the Mast High to work his will. That
 is all any man can do."
  
 "How much longer?" Theido asked, sweat dripping from his forehead and
 running down his neck. Sir Garth looked back at him and shook his head
 sadly.
  
 "No telling yet, my lord. Another few hours at least; likely more."
 The brawny knight jerked his thumb over his shoulder to where men
 labored to cut through the iron bands of the portcullis with various
 implements.
  
 "Put new men to the task, and spell them regularly from now on. We
 still have to fight once we are through the gate; I do not want the men
 exhausted before they must lift their swords."
  
 "It is the heat in this blasted tunnel," said Garth, "It drains a mans
 strength. We would have cut through long qo if not for that."
  
 Theido turned and walked to the barrier. For ." disir efforts, had
 succeeded in removing only one smi section of the thick iron gate. A
 second section was nearly freed, but a third and a fourth must be cut
 away to em ure that an armed man could pass through qiickly. There was
 nothing to be dome but continue hacking away at the structure at the
 same maddening, slow pam.
  
 Abruptly Theido left the chamber, passing back through the nor row
 tunnel to the cave mouth and the cool night beyond. The ping and chink
 of the workers' tools echoed through the passageway as their chisels
 bit into the iron. Delow the cave the soldiers whose services wean not
 now required at the grate rested on the shingle beside the water. The
 had rises and shone sparkling on the dark river, illuminating the cliff
 and the castle wails above with a
  
 The soldiers glanced up as Theid. made his way down to them. Progress?
  the glance asked. None, Theido's lock answered as he sat down ng m.
  
 One of the men, a knight b the nome of Olin, leaned close to Theido and
 asked, "What will happen if we do not breach the grate? What will we
 do?"
  
 "The grate will be breached," Tbnido answered stiffly.
  
 "Yea, I know eventually. 3ut if is wia comes first?"
  
 Thelo turned cheerless eyes u the and replied, "Ronsard will attack at
 dawn. lie has us other choice With our help or without it, he will go
 against the walls."
  
 Olin stared at Theido in silence.
  
 "You asked for the tru0 I told you."
  
 "Itisahardrruth,mylord.Itissuredeathtogoagainstthoae walls. Catapults
 and rams "
  
 Theido cut him off. "We have no time for catapults to wear down the
 walls or rams to splinter the gates. No time."
  
 "Then if we fail here, we die."
  
 "Yes, and more. If we fail, the realm dies with us the kingdom is an
 ruins." Theido noddedalowly, gazing out over the smoothly flowing
 water. "You did not know so much was at stake?"
  
 I 975 I
  
 "No, my lord," answered the knight. "I thought it was just to save the
 Prince."
  
 "The Prince, ourselves, our nation."
  
 Sir Olin said nothing more for a long time. Then, without another
 word, he rose to his feet and climbed back up the side of the cliff to
 the cave and went back to take his place at the portcullis with the
 other workmen.
  
 Then, as Theido watched, one by one the others who had been resting,
 having just come out from the tunnel, got up and climbed back to the
 cave to pick up their tools once more.
  
 FORTY-EIGHT
  
 As DAWN broke fair and clean in the east, the Dragon King raised his
 gauntleted hand and urged Blazer forward. The mighty warhorse jigged
 sideways and pranced, smelling the scent of battle in the air, feeling
 his bold blood race in his veins, eager to gallop with his master into
 the fray. Quentin, with Ronsard at his left hand, rode out onto the
 field, his armor glinting in the early light.
  
 He wore the battle dress made for him by the legendary Inchkeith, the
 armor he had worn against Nin the Destroyer on the day he had become
 King. Polished smooth, bright as water, the pale silver shimmered in
 the sun's first rays, throwing beams of light from its clean, flat
 surfces like the facets of a gemstone. On his head he wore the silver
 helm without a crest, except for the thin gold circlet of a crown that
 he had placed there on the day of his coronation. From his shoulders
 hung the exquisite cloak of chain mail, its tiny links rippling like
 quicksilver with every jouncing step.
  
 Ronsard, too, was arrayed in his best armor, and rode beside his King
 with eyes ahead, visor up, surveying the formidable walls The Suo,i and
 die k7ame rising before them on the escarpment. His hand rested easily
 on the hilt of his sword, his shield hung down from the pommel of his
 saddle, ready to be snatched up in an instant when need occasioned. His
 battle steed shook its mane and pawed the earth as it pranced out into
 the morning.
  
 Behind them came the King's knights mounted on their chargers, their
 armor clinking in the silent dawn. No drums beat time no trumpet
 sounded the call to arms. The army of the Dragon King would march
 unheralded into battle this day.
  
 After the knights came the footmen with their pikes and ladders, and
 grappling hooks on long ropes to aid in scaling the walls. They wore
 short, heavy swords thrust through their belts, for in the close
 fighting on the battlements there would be no room to swing a longer
 blade; and any who were lucky enough to reach the heights of Castle
 Ameron would need a stout weapon.
  
 The advancing forces reached the catapults, and teams of men ran out
 and began readying the machines,. loading stones and fireballs into
 the slings. This done, the men waited for the King's command. Quentin
 scanned the high ramparts, raised his sword a sturdy blade which he had
 chosen from among others in the armorer's wagon and lowered it ins
 swift movement.
  
 The catapults sang through the air and the footmen raced toward the
 walls with a mighty shout, flooding over the rising ground to the very
 feet of the enormous stone curtains. There they flung their ladders
 against the walls and sent their grappling hooks snaking through the
 air, while archers positioned themselves to oflr what help they
 could.
  
 At almost the same instant, a cry went up from the walls as Ameronis's
 men leapt to the embrasures and began hailing arrows, stones, an4
 timbers down upon the men below. The first men on the ladders fell
 screaming to the earth, but others appeared to take their places, and
 others behind them, each with a shield over his head to stop the deadly
 rain. But arrows found their mszs, stones gruck down with
 bone-shattering force, and brave soldiers felL As the attack began,
 Ameronis and his noble friends, sitting in the banqueting hall over
 their breakfhst, heard the cry go up from his men on the battlements.
 Ameronis rose from his chair sod said, grinning, "So, the King's army
 has no patience, eli? It sounds as if
  
 I 977 /
  
 they mean to tumble these walls with their wailing. Come, my friends,
 this will be rare sport. These walls have never been breached in

 living memory. Let us see how the Dragon King's army fares."
  
 With that he turned and hurried from the hall, Lupoilen following after
 him. The others sat iz silence, looking awkwardly at one another for a
 moment, and then followed. "He did not seem to think it worth,
 mentioning that his walls have stood secure all through the years
 because of the Dragon King's favor and protection," muttered Gorloic.
  
 "Aye," agreed Denellon. "I am sorry we ever listened to him. We will
 pay for our error before this day is through. Nash my words, sir. We
 will pay."
  
 They found Ameronis striding the wall walk, barking Ordats to his men,
 exhorting them to a fighting frenzy. Heedless of his wn safety, he
 dashed here and there to join in the worst of the flghting leaning out
 over the crenels and shoving the ladders away with his bare hands.
  
 "See how he rages!" cried Lord Kelkin, holding his head in dismay.
 "He is like a wolf, blood. drunk and ravening Rr the kill!"
  
 Catching sight of them, Ameronis shouted, "L&l Here is a sight for you!
 The Dragon King has joined the conte sd He thrust out a hand and
 pointed below.
  
 The other lords rushed to the embrasure and peered fearfully down into
 the moil; and there; amidst the writhing, seething mass of men
 struggling to mount to the walls, they glimpsed the white flanks of the
 King's charger, flashing here and there among his troops, and the
 Dragon King himself riding with his sword uplifted and shield held
 high.
  
 "Bring me a bowl" bawled Ameronis above the clamor. "A bow! Bring me
 a bow!"
  
 "Stopl" bellowed Gorloic. "Think what you are doing!"
  
 But Ameronis would not listen; he snatched up a longbow from one of his
 archers and notched an arrow to the string and let fly at thrKing.
 Gorloic and Kelkin rushed forward and grabbed Amaronis by the arms.
 "Let me go!" he screamed. "Let me go!" He aUmggSd free of their
 grasp and backed from them. "If you have no stomach far the fight, get
 below and hide with the women in the The Sword wad the Flame scullery!
 I mean to wear the crown, and I will take it however I must!"
 Horrified, the noblemen backed away and withdrew to the gatehouse
 turret where they could watch the battle in safety.
  
 Once the fighting began, Ronsard allowed the main force of footmen to
 establish themselves before the gates of the castle before leading his
 own small force to the lesser defended northern wall. Ladders were
 thrown up and secured. One knight gained the battlement without being
 seen, and another as well before the alarm was sounded and Ameronis's
 men came running with sword and halberd to repel the invaders. But
 Ronsard's knights fought well and held their own while their number was
 strengthened from below. Ronsard was the third man over the wall and
 was soon joined by others until there were twelve of the King's knights
 on the walL
  
 Together these twelve labored to cut through to where their comrades
 fought to gain the western wall. They inched along the northern
 curtain toward the northern tower; from there they could cross over to
 the west. Once in the tower, however, they encountered strong
 resistance. Ten of Ameronis's knights, hearing the alarm from the
 northern curtain, had come running up from the ward yard below to meet
 them.
  
 The foremost of these, a giant of a man in an iron morion and carrying
 a two. handed axe in one hand and an ox-hide shield in the' other, came
 crashing in through the door of the tower, swinging his weapon in a
 deadly arc around him. Ronsard, with two of his knights, managed to
 force the giant back out the door, which they sealed at once.
  
 "Can you hold the doors?" asked Ronsard, throwing open his visor.
  
 "I think so," replied his second-in. command Just then there came a
 fearful crash at the door they had just sealed as the giant's axe
 thundered on the planks. "For now," he added.
  
 "Hold out as long as you can," said Ronsard, "and then join us below.
 I am going to try to fight through to the gates. Perhaps we can force
 them open." So saying, Ronsard led the other knights down the
 spiraling wooden steps to the tower keep below which was as yet
 unguarded.
  
 With swords singing, they forced their way across the outer ward to the
 gatehouse, encountering little resistance since most of
  
  
 / 979 I
  
 the castle's defenders lined the wall walks above. Once inside, they
 overpowered the frightened foe easily.
  
 "In the King's name, open the gates!" demanded Ronsard, his sword at
 the throat of the quaking gatekeeper.
  
 The man wailed and rolled his eyes in tenor. "Though you sever head
 from shoulders, I cannot!" cried the man.
  
 "Open them, or I will drop you where you stand!"
  
 "I cannot!" screamed the gatekeeper. "Brave sir, believe me! The
 doors are fortified and cannot now be opened by anyone leastways,
 without removing the timbers and chains."
  
 "My lord," shouted one of Ronsard's knights, "he speaks true. The gates
 are bound in chains and reinforced with timbers. To remove them would
 take us haIfa day!"
  
 Ronsard was about to make a reply when behind them on the staircase
 leading to the parapet they heard a shout and the sound of many feet
 pounding down the wooden stairs. "We are discovered!" cried one of the
 knights.
  
 In the space of three heartbeats the loyal besiegers were swarmed by
 knights as the gatehouse filled with troops from the ramparts above.
 And though Ronsard and his men stood toe to toe against the defenders,
 they were sorely outnumbered and were forced to retreat back across the
 ward yard to the northern tower. There they rejoined their comrades who
 still held the doors leading out onto the wall walks.
  
 "Seal the doors below!" ordered Ronsard. "We will go above and win
 the turret!"
  
 They clattered up the stairs to the turret, which was defended by
 archers. One look at the armored knights boiling up out of the tower,
 however, and the archers, assuming that the King's forces had breached
 the walls, threw down their weapons and begged for mercy. "Take their
 weapons," said Ronsard, and the archers were herded together at the
 further rim of the turret and made to sit down while a knight stood
 over them with a sword.
  
 Ronsard then strode to the embrasure and stood up in the crenel, waving
 his sword over his head. Men on the ground below recognized him and
 cheered, swarming at once to the tower with their ladders and hooks.
  
 This minor victory proved short-lived, however, for Ameronis Tiw Sword
 and the Flame too saw Ronsard's signal and sent a force of his best
 knights to the northern tower. In moments the knights had rushed to
 the tower and were hacking at the doors. At the same imtant, the giant
 on the wall walk succeeded in battering the door to splinters with his
 huge axe; he came charging through, followed by others, and they all
 came thundering up the stairs to the turret.
  
 "We're trapped!" hollered one of the besiegers. "We are cut
  
 "Here!" said Ronsard, motioning to the archers who had given
 themselves up. "Sit on the hatchway all of you!"
  
 The prisoners scrambled together and sat down on the planks, holding
 the door closed with their combined weight. "That should keep them out
 for a while at least," said Ronsard. "We can only wait now. The fight
 is taken from us for the moment."
  
 In the secret passage deep beneath the castle, the clash and clamor of
 the combat could be heard, muted through the heavy gate beyond the
 portcullis. "Listen!" said Theid% and the hammering halted. Into the
 silence drifted the eerie sound of heated battle as if the echoes of an
 ancient war still lingered in the rocks of the cave and now came
 drifting out from the stones that had held them.
  
 "By the One!" cried Theido. "It has started! Hurry, mei, or we come
 too late!"
  
 At once the hammers rang out on the cold iron, filling the cave and
 tunnel with a horrendous din as chisels bit deep in an effort to free
 the last section of the grate, for now they did not have to worry about
 the noise; any racket they made would be drowned in the battle roar
 above.
  
 With shouts and curses the soldiers threw themselves at the
 tin relenting iron until, exhausted, they fell back panting into the
 tunneL When one man faltered, another took his place as the assault on
 the portcullis continued.
  
 FORTY-NINE
  
 Au.. it oui him on the ground lay the bodies of the wounded, broken,
 and dying, some crushed beneath timbers and stones, many more pierced
 through with arrows. Still the King strove to rally his flagging
 forces to remount the assault. But, disheartened by their lack of
 success in gaining the walls and dismayed at the loss of their numbers,
 the Dragon King's army shrank from the walls, and Quentin was forced to
 withdraw to regroup his forces.
  
 At the first sign of the King's retreat, a cheer went up from
 Ameronis's men on the walL The lord himself joined in the exultation,
 and called after the receding troops, "Have you had enough, and so
 soon? Come back; let us finish it for once and all!" This brought
 more cheers from his men. So Ameronis leaned out over the wall and
 called still louder to the delight of his army, "The Dragon King slinks
 my like a scalded hound with his ears bobbed and his tail between his
 legs! Come back and fight like a man of honor!"
  
 Up in the gatehouse turret Lords Kelkin, Gorloic, and Denellon watched
 as the King's forces retreated from the field. "It is going badly for
 them," remarked Kelkin. "Would that I had my knights with me now I
 know which side I would join."
  
 "I, too, would add my aid to the King," said Denellon. "I have seen
 enough of Ameronis's waya. His true face is revealed in war, and it is
 not a face I would care to see under the crown."
  
 "Nor I," put in Lord Gorloic. "But though my knights guard my own
 for tress and are far from here, I still have a sword, and an arm to use
 it! And while I live, both belong to the Dragon King!" The Sword and
 dir Flame
  
 "Aye!" agreed the others. "So be it!"
  
 "But," said Kelkin, "we are only three. Ameronis and Lupollen have the
 advantage over us. We would be cut top before we put hand to hilt."
  
 "Then we will have to find another way to better them. We cannot do
 that here. Come, my friends," said Gorloic, "time is fleeting and we
 have work to do!"
  
 "Are ye fair certain this be the wisest course, young master?" asked
 Pym as the two rode along through the forest. "What will yer mother
 say when she learns we'uns as let ye follow the King to battle. and
 we'uns without so much as a stick to shake at the foemen."
  
 "Be quiet," replied Renny. "I'm thinking."
  
 "Yer lord We'uns've been riding these woods fer near a day and no sign
 of the King. We'uns'd best go back." " Be go back if'ee want to," said
 Renny stubbornly. "I mean to fight for the King."
  
 Pym sighed as he had sighed a hundred times in the last twelve hours
 and scratched his grizzled head. "Well, if ye have yer heart set on
 it, there'll be no persuading ye not as I haven't tried, neither. But
 ye must admit it we'uns is lost."
  
 "Not lost," replied Renny. "We just lack direction."
  
 They had left Askelon the day before when the King rode out, following
 him as he himself had for lowed his army. But the two of them on Tarky
 were no match for the spirited Blazer and were soon outdistanced and
 left behind. Pym had been for turning back, but his young dmpanion
 pursued his course with single. minded determination, bent on serving
 the Dragon King beside those noble knights he had met when they tried
 to return the horse.
  
 The two were resting along a little-used pathway through the
 southeastern reaches of Pelgrin when they heard the jingle of a horse's
 tack and the murmur of voices on the trail ahead.
  
 "Someone's coming!" Renny jumped up and peered into the green shadows.
  "A horse and rider! We'll ask him how to find Ameron Castle."
  
 Closer, they saw not one, but two riders trotting lightly along the
 pathway. Boldly Benny stepped out into the center of the trail
  
 I 983 I
  
 so that they would stop, and in a moment he looked up into the face of
 a black-bearded nobleman astride a sleek black charger.
  
 "Ho! Who goes there?" said the nobleman with a wink to his companion,
 a knight with a broadsword on his thigh and a shirt of maiL
  
 "A highwayman by all appearances," returned his companion. "Please, my
 lord," said Renny, speaking up with all the courage he could muster.
 "We need help."
  
 "We are true men," replied the lord. "You have but to ask, and if it
 be within our power it is granted. But ask quickly, for we are about
 important business."
  
 Seeing how the lord received the lad, Pym brought Tarky and came to
 stand beside Renny. "This is my friend," said the boy. "We are on our
 way to join the King's army at Ameron-onSipleth."
  
 "We'uns've lost our way, yer lordship," added the tinker. Tip barked
 once to affirm their plight.
  
 The nobleman leaned forward in the saddle and studied the travelers
 closely. "What do you know of the King's army?"
  
 Pym grew tentative. "Only that they marched out from Asketon two no,
 three days ago sunset time. The King followed last night, and we'uns
 followed him."
  
 Renny nodded. " Be goes to clsiut his sword back from them that took
 izi"
  
 The lord glanced at his companion, then back at the two before him.
 Recognition came to him like a flash of lightning out of a clear blue
 sky. "Why, I know you," he said, looking Pym up and down. "You're the
 tinker in the road."
  
 "And I know ye, too, yer lordship. Ye were the one as didn't want a
 poor tinker to come to no harm."
  
 "That bruise on your jaw, man did Ameronis do that to you?"
  
 "To say he didn't would tell a lie, yer lordship. That he did, right
 enough." Pym rubbed his still-swollen jaw. "When he took the
 sword."
  
 "Mi, so it was a sword you held under those rags, was it?" He watched
 Pym carefully. "The King's sword?"
  
 Pym nodded. "I don't know ifit be the Shining One or no, but here's no
 end of them that thinks it, sir."
  
 "It must be!" said the nobleman to the knight beside him. "And
 Ameronis took it, you say?"
  
 Pym nodded. Renny spoke up, "And we mean to help the King get it back.
  Ee needs it to save the Prince!"
  
 "What's this? What about the Prince?"
  
 "It be the ransom, yer lordship. The sword must be delivered to High
 Temple tomorrow middle day or the young Highness is to be killed." 1)ocs
 Anieronis know about this?" asked the nobleman.
  
 "We'uns can't say if he does or he don't. But all Askelon knows now.
 It's all anyone talks of, ye see. The word went out yesterday when the
 Dragon King rode out. Folks as said he went to claim his sword to save
 his son, ye see."
  
 "Yes, I see." The lord rose up in the saddle and turned to the knight.
 "Ride back and call out my men all of them, and my tenants, too. As
 many as have weapons. If any lack, let them be equipped out of my
 armory."
  
 "Yes, Lord Edfrith," replied the knight, taking up the reins and
 turning his mount.
  
 "Meet us at Castle Ameron. I go there at once."
  
 "I will hardly be alone, sir. I have two stout comrades with me here;
 no man in the realm could be better served. Go and bring my troops.
 The King will need all the help we can provide if he goes against
 Ameronis. Hurry!"
  
 "Ronsard and his contingent are trapped, Sire. A few of our men
 managed to reach the turret to join him before the tower was taken
 again," explained one of the King's commanders. "They fight now just
 to stay alive; we cannot look for any aid from them."
  
 Quentin nodded gravely and dismissed the knight, turning his eyes
 toward the battlefield. His surgeons carried litters bearing the
 wounded and dying.  Ameronis's troops looked on from the wall, awaiting
 the next assault, content for the moment merely to watch and wait and
 conserve their strength.
  
 So, thought Quentin, it has come to this. Ronsard trapped, Theido
 rendered useless, and I am here alone His mind turned to the others he
 had depended on throughout his life: Durwin, Bria, / 985.!
  
 Aline." Yeseph, Eskevar, Theido, Roasard, and Toli perhaps most of
 all. But now, at this moment, all were gone. When he needed them most
 there was no one to turn to, no one to say to him, "Yes, goon," or "No,
 turn aside." No one to give counsel, confer with, or share the aching
 anxiety of this moment.
  
 Even the Most High stood far ofi; his hand removed and his presence
 withdrawn.
  
 Quentin squared his shoulders. I am the Dragon King, he said to
 himself, and it is time I learned to accept what it is to be a King, to
 be a man whose choices must be his own, and who must live or die by his
 decisions. Oh, but it is hard. Look at all thes others here, watching
 me, trusting me to lead them, to save them, laying down their lives at
 my command. Such faith they have, trusting me with their lives. I
 neler asked to be a King, but I was chosen. And I will lead these last
 faithful men as truly as I know how.
  
 Quentin swung down from his saddle and handed the reins to a squire.
 He walked among his troops resting on the pound, speaking to them,
 rebuilding their courage for the next sally.
  
 "Hurrah! The grate is breached!" The cheer echoed along the secret
 passage beneath Ameronis's castle.
  
 "Good!" said Theido. "At last! Now for the gate beyond. Come on,
 men. We are almost through!"
  
 With axes and wedges the soldiers ran through the gaping hole in the
 portcullis and went to work on the timbers beyond. In moments the
 planks were shivered by the sharp blows of the axe and split by the
 thrust of the wedge.
  
 "Ready yourselvesl" called Theido to the others waiting behind him.
 "We will be through the gate in no time. Be armed and keen for the
 fight."
  
 Gorloic, Kelkin, and Denellon crept along through the castle corridors
 and galleries, having armed themselves from the hands of fallen and
 expired warriors. Now they moved quietly toward their objective: the
 gatehouse.
  
 "I will see to the gatekeeper," said Gorloic. "You two take care of
 his men."
  
 "What if Ameronis or Lupollen discover us?" asked Kelkin. He The
 Sword and the Ram,
  
 glanced around nervously, as if expecting the treacherous lords to
 appear at any moment.
  
 "They will not," replied Denellon.
  
 "Aye," agreed Gorloic. "If we wait until the attack renews, they will
 have enough to think about. But we must work quickly. SeeP The
 gatehouse is through the antechamber before us. Are we ready?"
  
 "Listen!" said Denellon, for at that moment a tremendous crash was
 heard in the ward yard outside. And another shook the outer curtain.
 "The catapults! The attack has begun!"
  
 From up on the wall walks above, the lords heard the roar of a shout
 from the troops lining the ramparts as the Dragon Kings army came
 rushing to the walls once more. "We go!" said Gorloic, and laying a
 hand to his hilt he rushed forward through the antechamber and into the
 gatehouse, his friends coming hard on his heels.
  
 "Gateman!" Gorloic shouted. "Open the gates!"
  
 The gatekeeper and his men, some of whom had been crouching behind
 barrels in the corner, turned to meet the noblemen, their eyes showing
 white all around. "But, your lordship," he complained, "we cannot!
 The gates are fortified! It is Lord Ameronis's order that they remain
 sealed."
  
 "Silence, fool!" shouted Gorloic. "It is his order that they be opened
 now. The battle is turned, and he expects the enemy to break ranks and
 run at any moment. He wants the gates opened so that he can give
 chase!"
  
 The keeper shook his head slowly, peering doubtfully at Ocrloic. "Sir,
 I dare not without an order from my lord himself:"
  
 Denellon dashed forward. "Do you hear the shouting? Hurry!"
  
 Kelkin added, "Think how angry your master will be when he learns you
 disobeyed his order."
  
 This rattled the gate man His eyes bugged out, and he threw up his
 hands. But still he refused. "I dare not go against my order."
  
 Gorloic turned on him angrily, grabbed him by the shoulders, and
 whirled him around. "If you and your men will nor help us, we will do
 it ourselves! And I will personally tell Ameronis that you defied
 him!"
  
 "No! Oh, I "
  
 / 987 I
  
 "We have no time!" imisted Gorloic. He nodded to Denellon and Kelkin,
 who rushed to the gates and began hacking at the shackle-bolts with
 their swords. "Are you going top us?"
  
 "You will take responsibility?"
  
 "YesI Yes, gladly!"
  
 The gatekeeper waved his men forward and produced a ring of keys.
 "Here, with these it will go faster." And he proceeded to loose the
 shackle-bolts while his men threw off the heavy chains binding the
 timbers that had been jammed against the gates.
  
 FIFrY
  
 Wrrii EVERY ounce of strength remaining, the King's troops threw
 themselves at the walls, planting their ladders once more and
 struggling to mount them. But wherever they attempted to gain a
 foothold choosing a portion of unprotected wall, or establishing
 themselves within the protection of archers always that attempt was
 repulsed. The enemy rushed to the edge to kirk stones and beams down
 upon them, or archers darkened the air with arrows and drove them
 back.
  
 The Dragon King rode fearlessly through the fray, arrows glancing now
 and again from his armor and shield, shouting to his men, heartening
 them, urging them on.. But the tide of battle was against them.
  
 "Sire!" Quentin turned to see one of his commanders riding up. The
 knight threw open his visor, saying, "We have lost the left flank. Too
 many men have fl len and we cannot continue alone."
  
 "Join with Sir Heldur's men in the center!" ordered Quentin. "We must
 hold the center." The knight rode off again, and Quentin was hailed
 from the other side. The report was the same the right flank had been
 weakened and was in danger of falling. His army teetered on the brink
 of defeat. In only a few minutes the rest of his The Swenl and &Ie
 Rime soldiers overcome with fear and futility would retreat and once in
 flight would not return again to the field.
  
 Even as Quentin thought this, the first ranks broke and fell back,
 shrinking from the fight. "Hold!" he cried, riding forward with
 upraised sword, though in his heart he knew that there was no good
 reason now to hold on. More and more troops were falling away as
 others, looking about and seeing their comrades withdrawing, joined the
 retreat. Soon soldiers were streaming from the field by the score.
  
 Just as the foremost ranks of footmen faltered and fell back, someone
 shouted, "The gates! The gates are wool"
  
 Quentin looked up to see the castle gates swinging open, pushed from
 within by figures he vaguely recognized. Then, as they were thrown
 wide, one of the figures sprang out and beckoned to him with a sword.
 "Gorloic?" ahssedQuentin as he rode for the gate.
  
 "Sire" the nobleman dropped to one knee "forgive me for my
 faithlessness. Allow me to earn back your trust with my sword."
  
 "And I," said another.
  
 "And I, as well," replied another coming close.
  
 "Denelloii, Kelkin, Gorloic yes!" shouted Quentin as already his
 knights sur ted through the gates and into the outer ward yard.
  
 Those in retreat, seeing the gates swing open and their King standing
 in the breach, halted, turned, and came running back with a tremendous
 shout and pressed forward into the castle, sweeping their King and
 comrades before them.
  
 "We are betrayed!" bellowed Ameronis. He stood with clenched fists
 and pounded the rough stone of the crenel as he saw below him the
 King's army flooding in through his gates.
  
 "Rally! "Rally!" cried Lupollen beside him. "We can match them blade
 for blade. We have superior numbers now."
  
 It was true. The assault on the waURl weakened the Dragon King's
 forces, depleting their ranks severely. "Yes! We are far from lost!"
 said Ameronis. "And I will welcome the chance to exchange blows with
 the King and best him with his own sword."
  
 In the space of a doen heartbeats, Ameronis's troops came flying down
 from the battlements to engage the enemy in the outer
  
 I 989 I
  
 ward yard. Instantly the air was shattered with the dash of arms as
 sword beat upon shield, and axe and mane smashed steel sensor. "For the
 Dragon King!" cried the King's warriors as they forced their way
 forward through the press.
  
 But Ameronis's men were rough and well-trained. They held forth and
 did not give ground. Fierce battle raged on every side. Qoonrin dodged
 here and there into the fray, striking again and again, until he seemed
 to be everywhere at once. Those of his men who were pressed hard to
 the point of breaking, those who slipped and were about to fall had
 only to raise their eyes to see the Dragon King's blade winging to
 their aid. And if it was not the Shining
 Onerhatmenhediearnedtokandrespecr,kwaaarleastasword in the strong hand
 of a deliverer.
  
 The archers on the battlements threw down their longbows, ran to the
 armory, and took up crossbowa a weapon better suited to the dose
 infighting of hand-to-hami combat end began hurling deadly bolts into
 the thick of the meleE, driving the King's forces back For could stand
 against the lethal ushuies which even the heaviest armor, and none
 could gst dose enough to strike at the assailants.
  
 High up in the turret above the northern tower, Romard and his knights,
 who had cheered wildly when die King's shoved through the gates to win
 the outer ward yin!" uowarood mute while Ameronis's forces turned the
 battle once more them.
  
 "We must help them!" cried one o(the knights.
  
 "Here!" shouted Ronsard. "Take up the prisoner's bows-all of you!
 Aim carefully, sirs-there are friends among the foe down there!"
  
 With that, the trapped knights loosed a volley into the chaos below.
 Ameronis's men, so confident only seconds before, now drew back as
 death came whistling after them from the skies.
  
 "That has helped, but unless we receive more substantiel aid soon, the
 day is lost. See? Anieronis has our forces outnumbered two men to
 one."
  
 The words were scarcely out of Ronsard's mouth when there rose a cry
 from out on the field before the castle. Ronsard dashed to the far
 embrasure and stared down upon the escarpment and at the host of
 knights and footmen running torward.
  
 "Who is it?" asked one o(the knights. "I do not recognize the
 blazon." "i-ia t u Lord Edfrith's, ru rant."
  
 "An enemy! We are lost!" It appeared that Lord Edfrith and his men
 were swooping in behind the King to cut him off, thus crushing all hope
 of victory or even honorable retreat.
  
 "No, wait!" said Ronsard. "He rides before the King's troops!" For an
 instant the lord was cut off from view as he passed beneath the curtain
 and into the ga rehouse "Look! He has come to our aid!"
  
 "We are saved!" shouted the knights, and the turret erupted in shouts
 of jubilation as Edfrith and his knights ceme pounding in through the
 gates, swords flashing, voices raised in abattle chant for the King.
 And all who heard it took heart.
  
 "For Mensandor! For honor! For the Dragon King!"
  
 Ameronis, who at that moment was cutting a mth toward the King with
 Zhaligkeer, glanced up and saw the army of Edfrith streaming in through
 the gates. He heard the chant and turned to Lupollen who labored
 beside him matching thrust for stroke. "Bd frith rides for the King!
 We are twice betrayed!" Despair rushed upon him, and he staggered
 back.
  
 "We are not vanquished yet!" Lupollen said, grabbing him by the arm
 and shaking him. "You hold the sword let us escape while we still may.
  With the sword we may raise an army elsewhere."
  
 "Good counsel. Let us fly! Ameronis turned and fled back through the
 thronging soldiers and into the castle with Lupollen after him.
  
 Surrounded and disadvantaged by now-superior forces, Lord Ameronis's
 commanders threw down their weapons and begged for quarter. Cries of
 "Mercy! Mercy!" and "Give quarter!" rang out in the castle yard
 where before the shouts of "Hold forth! We win!" still hung in the
 air, so quickly had the battle ended.
  
 Pym and Renny, astride Tarky, peered fearfully in through the gate.
 Lacking weapons and armor, they had hung back from the battle at
 Edfrith's command; but upon hearing the cries of the vanquished they
 had come close to see the struggle ended and
  
 I 991 I
  
 discover which side had won. "The King has carried the day!" shouted
 Renny. "Hooray! The Dragon King has won!"
  
 "So he has for a fhct," replied Pym sagely. "We uns nivver doubted it
 fera minute, eli? No, nivver fera minute." They slipped in through
 the gate and rode into the press around the King.
  
 Denellon, Kelkin, and Gorloic also pushed through the mob and came to
 stand beside Edfrith, who had dismounted, and all four stood before the
 King. "It is over. We declare the victory yours, Sire," they said,
 and all around them raised a victory chant.
  
 Quentin held up his hand for silence, and when the cheer died down,
 said "It is not over until I hold the sword." He stood in his stirrups
 and scanned the crowd. "Where is Ameronis? I will have him here
 before me."
  
 Ronsard, who wasted no time in abandoning the turret once the tower was
 taken, shouldered his way through the crush areund the Dragon King.
 "Ameronis has escaped!" he called, breathless from his run down the
 tower stairs. "I saw him and his cunning friend fly the battle and
 disappear into the castle."
  
 "Then he has taken the sword with him!" said Gorloic. "Our efforts
 have been for naught!"
  
 "Curse him!" spat Kelkin. "There is no catching hip now!"
  
 "Why?" asked Quentin, sudden panic flooding over him, twisting his
 skoniach. Where has he gone?"
  
 "There is a secret passage beneath the castle," explained Kelkin. "It
 leads out onto the Sipleth and to a trail along the shore. Upriver he
 keeps a boat in readiness. At least, his father always did. I suppose
 Aniemonis does as well."
  
 At this, Quentin and Ronsard threw back their heads and laughed
 heartily as relief chased the dread from their faces just as sunlight
 removes the shadows when the clouds have moved on.
  
 "You find this humorous, Sire?" Kelkin asked.
  
 "You do not know the fears your words have slain just now, my friend,"
 replied Ronsard. "You may just have performed your greatest service to
 your King."
  
 "How so, sir?"
  
 "Look!" maid Inward, raising his arm. "I think friend Theido escorta
 two most reluctant "
  
 A wide avenu parted in the company as a group of knights came marching
 up pushing Aineronis and Lupollen much cbs grmned, yet still
 defiant-before them on the points of their swords.
  
 "Sire!" exclaimed Theido. "It is heartening to see you. We did not
 expect-"
  
 "Did not expect me, I know. But did you really think I would allow the
 likes of Ameronis to challenge me without a fight?" asked Quentin with
 a anile.
  
 Theido grinned readily. "The battle is won, and none too soon:' The
 tall knight placed a hand on Ameroois and pushed him forward to kneel
 before the King. "We raught this one and his friend trying to escape
 through the secret passage."
  
 "Give me the sword, Anseronis." Quentin glared down at the humbled
 lord. Ameronis put his hand to his side and withdrew the sword from
 his scabbard. Laying the blade across his outstretched
 hands,heoredituptotheKingwithhiseyesavertedandhead bowed.
  
 Quatatin we&issSerd and raised it in the sunlight, then slid It home
 toisa&rd, "I do not have time to deal with you now, traitor. Dutiwill,
 and oon you may count on it. And let your contemplation of your
 punlibment add to its severity" He turned to the others. "My friends,
 at midday tomorrow my son will die unless I meet the ransom demand. I
 ride at once to the High Temple."
  
 "I will go with you," said Theido.
  
 "And I," said Inward. His words were echoed all around, so tharwhen
 the Dragon King rode our from Ameron Castle rbp followed behind him a
 great train made up of lords and soldier and people from the
 countryside who had been drawn to the acee of the battle. And all made
 their way northward through Peigrin Forest toward Narramoor and the
 High Temple beyond.
  
 FIFTY-ONE
  
 RAIN PATrEZID in the temple ysrd all through the night. Toli lay awake,
 listening, praying for deliverance for himself and the little Prince,
 and for the courage to face whatever awaited them. When morning came,
 the sky remained dark and overcast although the rain had stopped and a
 fresh wind had rise from the west.
  
 When Prince Gem awakened, Toli stood over the place he had occupied all
 night during his long vigil. At the moment the boy's eyes blinked
 open, he sat upright on his straw mattress and said, "Today is the day
 of our frtedonil Isn't it, Toli? Today my father will come for us!"
  
 Toil nodded and smiled to see the faith of the boy, undimmed by the
 long, numbing days of captivity. "Yes, today we will be free." He.
 looked at the Prince for a long while, then sat down beside him on the
 bed. When he spoke again, It waain a more serious tone.
  
 "Gem, I have something to tell you."
  
 The youngster waited for him to continue.
  
 Toll turned toward him. "You know that I love you as my own son. That
 is why I would not have you ignorant of what may take place today."
  
 "I am no longer afraid, Toli. I was before, but only for a little
 while. But my father is King, and he will not allow anything to happen
 to us. I know it."
  
 Toil smiled again and said, "Yes, I believe he will come. But there
 are times when even Kings are powerless over events. Your fat hp iKya
 but he is also a man and may not be able to change al like. Sometimes
 things are done that no one can The Sined sd the Fbi.,.
  
 Gem remained silent for a time, thinking on Toil's words. "Will they
 kill us?" he asked at last. Without waiting for an answer he blurted
 ahead, "I am nor afraid to die."
  
 "There is no shame in being afraid. There have been times that I have
 feared I hr my Bk. But courage comes in not allowing your fear to win
 over you."
  
 "Yes, but I am not afraid now. I have been thinking. The Most High
 has his purpose that is what Durwin always said and if it is that I
 must die for the kingdom to be saved, then I will do it."
  
 Toil marveled at such simple, wholehearted trust. "Yours are brave
 words, young sir, and wiser then you know. And yes, it may be that our
 lives are required. Iknowthatlwillgoeasierwithsuch a strong comrade
 beside me." He pulled the boy close in a tight hug. "But we are not
 dead yet, and the end is not yet revealed. We must still believe that
 the King will save u, Gem."
  
 "I know he will, Toil. He is my father."
  
 They talked no more of the Impending confrontation, but turned to other
 themes, remembering happier times. When the temple guards came for
 them, they found the cell ringing with laughter as Toli recounted his
 recent recollections of the Priice learning to ride and jump.
  
 "How heartening to hear our prisoners enjoying their last moments so
 pleasantly," said Nimrood, stepping into the cell. "Would you agree,
 Pluell?"
  
 The High Priest ducked in behind Nimrood. His face was white and his
 eyes and lips set ina fierce scowL "This has gone far enough, Nimrood.
 Too fad-Let them go now before the King gets here. There is still
 time."
  
 "Time, yes time to groom our captives and make them presentable. We
 must not let anyone think that we have mistreated our guests. No, that
 would not do at all" He beckoned to the guards still standing in the
 corridor, and they came forward carrying basins of water and clean
 linen towels and the prisoners' clothes, which had been taken from them
 the day before. "See? Freshly laundered. Fit for the King himself Oh,
 I hope he appreciates rht trouble we have gone to on your behalf,
 Princeling. But then, I'm certain he will understand."
  
 I 995 I
  
 "Please," be.ed PisseD, his face contorting in a grimace of pain,
 "please, let them go. There is nothing to be gained by going through
 with is!"
  
 "Silence, fool!" flared Nimrood. "We have been through this time and
 again. You weary me with your whining. I will hear no more of it!  Do
 you understand me? No more. It is decided."
  
 Toil watched the two warily as he washed hImself and shed the filthy
 robe he had been given. "Whet does he mean-nothing so be gained by
 going through with it?" asked Toliashe pulled on his clothes.
  
 "See?" said Niurood, turning on the High Priest. "You have ruined our
 surprise."
  
 Toli advanced on the old sorcerer. The guards drew their aw and held
 them at ready. "You do nor plan to lit us go whither she King meets
 the ramoin or nor, do you?" said Toil flatly. "You to kill us
 regardless."
  
 Nimmod leveled his eyes upon him, and Toil saw the depths of hate
 within shun. He knew he .d a being of pure eviL Still, he did shok
 back. "You, Jher dog. should have known that I would newt uflow you
 so escape twice. I, Niasrood, will have my revenge-on you and that
 grasping. spineS.. muster of ysvs. And it has not been magic that
 has overrhrowia yon, ne-you sew so that long ago when you robbed me
 of my powers. It h. been my own cunning. my superior wits, that have
 brought, down."
  
 Nimroqd walked worn the cell to where Prince Germ stood. Toil started
 to move toward him, but felt the sharp point of a sword in his back.
 The old necromancer placed his hands on the boy's shoulders. "But you
 do not have so be sacrificed, boy. Look at me." The Prince raised his
 eyes. Nlmrood gazed down at him, saying. "I will or you a choice.
 Come with me. Become my pupil, and I will reph you secrets such as no
 men, save Nimrood only, has ever known. I could give you such powers,
 boy power over fire and air, with ajsd water, life and death. Come with
 me, and let me be your teacher." He raised a hand and stroked the
 youngster's fair head. "Ih? What say you, lad?"
  
 "No! In the name oi'the Most High God!" cried Toil.. "Leave the boy
 aloneP'
  
 Germ shivered and, asif awakening from a lulling sleep shook
  
 The Svord and the Flame the sorcerer's hands from him. "No!" he
 shouted and ran to stand with Toli.
  
 Nimrood's eyes narrowed to hate-filled slits. "I gave you a choice;
 remember that when your blood runs out upon the altar stone impudent
 young cub. I could have given you powers and wealth unimaginable."
  
 "The Moss High will reckon with you, Nimrood," Toli said firmly. "He
 watches over his servants and remembers the injustices practiced
 against them. He will repay and bring you so account."
  
 Nimrood whirled on Toli and his hand flashed out, catching him on the
 side of the face. The blow resounded in the stunned silence that
 followed. "Shut up!" spat Niinrood savagely. Fire burned from his
 eyes his lips dripped spittle. "Shut up! Do you think Icare an hing
 for your petty god? Hal He is less than the worm that crawls through
 the dung heap to me. Little men" Nimrood glared into every face before
 him "today you will see how your little gods behave when challenged
 with true power!"
  
 The necromancer turned and strode so the cell door. "I am finished,
 and it is dine. Bring them."
  
 High Priest Pluell shrew a frightened look behind him at the prisoners
 and then fled after his demented master. The temple guards, six of
 them altogether, some with lances and some with swords, prodded the
 captives with the points of their weapons and marched them off down the
 corridor.
  
 "I do not know what will happen, Germ," whispered Toll as they walked
 along, guards ringing them in on every side. "But stay alert to any
 possibility of escape. I, too, will be watching, and if I say run,"
 you fly as fast as you can and do not look back. Agreed?"
  
 "Agreed." Germ nodded resolutely, and Toli knew he would do as he was
 told. When they reached the entrance hall of the temple, the great
 doors were thrown open and the prisoners were led out onto the steps of
 the temple. Before them on the flagging of the seniple yard stood the
 great altar which bad been moved from its place in the temple near the
 sacred stone and established as the foot of the steps in frill sighs of
 the onlookers now crowding into she space within the walls.
  
 People from as far away as Hinsenby, Perich, and Woodsend, 997'
  
 and nosa faw from Aukelon, streamed into she yard, jointing fit a place
 orwordhadgoneousthasshePrincewasheldznshe High Temple and that the King
 would seek to ranaom him there. And as many as could trawl quickly on
 horse or on Ibos came so see their King humbled and she temple exalted
 and its supremacy reasserted. For though they loved their King. they
 famed their god more. The simple people believed that she Dragon King
 had an she god Arid of' the High Temple by commissioning a new temple to
 be built so a strange new god; and for this she King,
 thoughKinghewas,mustbepunished.
  
 Many, so look at them, had walked all nighs; their clothing was still
 wet from the rain they had endured to be present at the moment the King
 laid his enchant el sword aside They wasted reverently, whispering
 behind their hands so their neighbors, while others 4lked openly,
 laughing and joking about what was soon to takep
  
 But et she moment when the temple doors opened and the pitsonera were
 led out so stand on the steps before the altar, a hush and the people
 stared as she bound with braided rope.
  
 Overhead the sky glowered down with dark menace,
 threateningmorerainatanymoment. Thesuncouldnosbeseenasall,and its
 absence cast a heavy gloom over the scene in the temple yard. Thunder
 rippled in the Faskills far ofl growling esninously Ilk.. hungry beast
 stalking its prey.
  
 Toll and Germ stood side by side on the temple steps rrounded by armed
 guards in scarlet cinsocks. Below them, near the altar, stood the High
 Priest and she white-haired, whise-be art Nisurood, his long black robes
 wrapped around him like a cloak of derknese.
  
 "Make way fbi the Queen!" called a voice. The populace shifted, and a
 pathway opened in the mass of people crowded to she very steps of the
 temple. Through this avenue came the Queen. followed by Lady Dame and
 the dowager Mines, with Princesses Brianna and Elena between them.
 With them were the knights who had accompanied them as their bodyguard.
  All came so stand before she High Priest.
  
 "Release my soul" demanded Bria. "For she good of the The Staortt and
 she Flame realm and she people of Mensandor, release him now." Relief
 and anger roiled inside her, making her voice quaver: relief at seeing
 her son as lass, safe and sound, anger as what he had been made so
 suffer.
  
 High Priest Pluell threw up his hands and looked at her fearfully.
 "You do not know what you ask, woman. Stand aside."
  
 "If you will not release him, allow me so sake his place."
  
 Plueli's eyes darted toward Nimrood. The Queen saw the look and turned
 toward the Wizard. "I see that it is you who I must appeal so. Allow
 me so sake the place of my son if you will not release him."
  
 "I am not inclined to accept abargain at this late hour. Stand aside
 and watch with she others."
  
 "Sir!" said Bria, starting forward. The guards snapped so attention
 and lowered their lances toward her; others leveled swords at the
 Prince and Toli. Instantly the swords of the knights came whistling
 from their sheaths and met the lances of the guards. "No!" shouted
 Bria. "I will wait ifI muss. I will not be the cause of bloodshed
 this dark day."
  
 Fearing for the safety of her son if she pressed her demand, she
 withdrew with the other women to stand off so the side. Afraid of what
 was so come, she asked one of the knights so take the Princesses so the
 carriage and sit with them there. Temple guards were placed with
 crossed lances before them, ensuring that there would be no further
 interference from that quarter. The women joined hands together and
 bowed their heads silently.
  
 "Is is time," said Nimrood. "The King is not coming."
  
 High Priest Plueli turned his eyes to the sky and said, "No, it is not
 time yet. Is is not yet midday. You said we would wait until
 midday."
  
 Nimrood drew breath and seemed about to protest, but held his tongue
 and instead said, "As you will, priest. We will wait yes a little
 longer. I am not so anxious that I cannot savor the waiting."
  
 The yard fell silent all around. Not even the wind stirred the leaves
 of the trees lining the wall trees into whose branches the curious had
 climbed so better see what would take place.
  
 They waited,
  
 Toli glanced down as Prince Gem, standing beside him. He 999'
  
 nodded as if to say, "Courage; he will come." The boy returned it with
 one of his own which replied, "I know, and lam not afraid."
  
 The clouds rolled overhead, angry and swollen, hard and black as smoked
 amber, flying away on swift storm wings. An unnatural twilight
 descended over the temple yard, as if the sun had withdrawn and refused
 so shed its warmth and light on the proceedings.
  
 Still, they waited.
  
 As lass Nimrood could stand it no longer. "There is no more time. It
 is midday, and the King is not here. He is not coming. Bring the
 prisoners."
  
 The guards looked at one another and hesitated.
  
 "Bring them!" shouted Nimrood, his voice shrill. The High Priest,
 shaking visibly now, nodded and turned his face away. The guards
 thrust the captives down the steps with their weapons.
  
 Toll started forward, lifted his foot, and then stumbled, rolling down
 the steps. "Run!" he shouted to the Prince as he went down. Young Gem
 leaped down the steps and dashed forward into the crowd.
  
 "Stop him!" roared Nzmrood. "Bring him back!"
  
 Before she knights standing with the Queen could lift a hand, one of
 the temple guards whirled around and seized the Prince by she nape of
 the neck, hauling the kicking lad off his feet.
  
 "Gem!" cried the Queen. "Germ!" She struggled forward, thrusting out
 her hands in a desperate attempt so reach him, but was stopped by the
 lance of the remaining guard. "My son!"
  
 Toli was hauled to his fee( and shoved forward. "A very clumsy effort
 for a nimble Jher," clucked Nimrood. "For your trouble you will be
 allowed to witness the sacrifice of the boy. I had planned it the
 other way around."
  
 With that, Nimrood swooped down and lifted the lad onto the altar,
 where he fought to free himself. One guard held his fees and another
 pulled his bound hands over his head. Toli shouted and dove toward the
 altar, but the guards around him grabbed his arms and held him fast.
  
 "No!" shrieked the boy's mother, her features twisted in horror. Esme
 threw her arms around the Queen and held her tightly.
  
 "The knife," said Nimmood to the High Priest. "Take up your dagger."
  
 HFTY- TWO
  
 "DAXEV" HIGH Priest Pluell's face blanched even whiter than before. He
 passed his robes absently. "I seem to have misplaced my dagger. I do
 not have is with me."
  
 Nimrood smiled maliciously. "I thought you might have forgotten yours
 conveniently, too, I might add. So I brought my own." He withdrew a
 long thin poniard from beneath his robe and, taking the High Priest's
 hand, placed the knif in is. "Now then, High Priest. Do your duty!"
  
 Plueli, eyes glazed and the sweat of fear glistening slick on his brow,
 turned a stricken countenance upon the Queen, whose face was hidden in
 her hands, and upon his evil aec6mplice, who smiled thinly and nodded.
 "Do is!" Nimrood croaked, his eyes sparkling with glee.
  
 The dagger shook in she High Priest's hand, bus he turned so where the
 young Prince lay on the altar and raised his arm above the boy's heart.
 Germ closed his eyes and drew his mouth into a sighs pucker so that he
 would not cry out. The kniI hung in the air, hesitated, and "Stop! The
 King is here! Wait! The Dragon King is coming!"
  
 With a sigh the air rushed through the High Priest's teeth; his arm
 wavered and dropped to his side, and he fell back away from the
 altar.
  
 Across the yard there came the sound of horses and men pounding up she
 winding road below the temple, as well as the voices of those outside
 the temple walls who shouted and hailed the King as he came.
  
 In a moment the crowd parsed, and the King's stallion came clattering
 into the yard. Quentin reined Blazer to a halt, the
  
 I 1001 I
  
 courser's hooves sulking sparks from the paving stones, and threw
 himself from the saddle.
  
 He advanced toward the temple as those with him Theido and Ronsard,
 Lord Edfrith, and. host of knights and men came pounding from behind
 into the already overcrowded yard. Tha people drew my from the King,
 giving him wide berth as he approached the altar.
  
 "I have brought the ransom," Quentin called out boldly. "Let my son
 go!" He directed this challenge at the High Priest who drew back among
 the other priests as the edge of the temple steps.
  
 "That will not do, my King," replied Niinrood coolly.
  
 Quensin turned so face him across the distance between them. "Who are
 you?" He stepped closer, his eyes on the old man's fee struggling to
 read some recognition there. "Do I know you?"
  
 "We have never met," the old man replied. "But I think you know me."
  
 "I ask again. Who are you?"
  
 "A name? Very well, I shall give is. You see before you none other
 than Nimrood, known as the Necromancer once long ago, before my power
 was shorn from me."
  
 "Nimrood!" Is took all Quensin's strength not to stagger backward as
 the knowledge rocked him to the core. "You rise from the dust of death
 like one of your ghastly creations!"
  
 "Yes, and I have come so daim my revenge." He stepped behind the altar
 and motioned to the guards holding the boy so remove him. "Your sword,
 proud King, she Shining One that was so be the ransom. Where is it?"
  
 Quentin drew the sword; is whispered as it slid from the scabbard. He
 held it up for all so see and started for the altar.
  
 Nimrood held up a hand. "Not like that!" he screamed. Quentin
 halted. "On your knees! I want all your subjects teaee ya bow so me.
 I want you so acknowledge me before all these witnesses."
  
 Quensin advanced two more steps and came so the altar. "On your knees,
 proud King!"
  
 "Never!" shouted Quensin. "You ask for the sword here it is. You will
 get nothing more from me."
  
 "Bow so me on your knees, or the boy dies!" Nimrpod whirled around and
 snatched the dagger out of the startled High Priest's hand. In a flash
 the knifa blade lay against the young boy's throat. "Kneel, great King,
 or lose your son and heir." The rasping voice dripped venom.
  
 Quentin, every fiber of his being rebelling at she act, dropped slowly
 to one knee. He glared frightfully at Nimrood, who smiled wickedly as
 he held the knift against the Prince's neck. The people were silent as
 death watching the humiliation of their King.
  
 "Now the sword," said Nimrood, breaking the unearthly silence. "Lay is
 on she altar." His words stabbed like dagger points, penetrating so
 the furthest reaches of the temple yard so that every man there heard
 plainly what was said.
  
 The Dragon King raised the sword once more and held it by the hilt.
 This sword, he thought, is the Shining One promised me in she dream
 long ago, and given to me by the hand of the Most High. Is is the
 sword of the Most High himself; I cannot give is up so Nimrood. I
 cannot lay it upon that altar; to do so would be an act of worship so
 that depraved monster. I will not forsake the true God not to save my
 life or the Uk of my son.
  
 Quentin turned the sword in his hand and looked as it, and then as
 Nimrood. He rose so his feet once more.
  
 "On your knees!" screamed Nimrood. "Bow down so mat"
  
 Quentin raised the blade above his head in both hands' and turned his
 face toward the heavens. "Moss High God," he said, his words ringing
 in the silence of the temple yard, "hear your servant. Show your power
 now; exalt yourself in the midst of your enemies. Let your justice burn
 like a flame in the land, that all men may worship the true god."
  
 "Your god is deaf; it seems," scoffed Nimrood. "Hal There is no true
 god. Pray so me, Dragon King! Perhaps I will grant your prayer!"
  
 Quensin, eyes closed and face turned upward, did not listen to
 Nimrood's mocking laughter, but instead prayed as fervently as ever he
 had in his life, pouring himself out before the Most High. And in that
 moment he felt the blade grow warm in his hand. He opened his eyes and
 looked skyward as the heavy black clouds parted and a single shaft of
 light fell upon him, striking the blade in his hand. He stood in a
 circle of golden light, and as he looked the light played along the
 tapering blade, winking in the gems at the
  
 I 1003 I
  
 hilt. The light was alive, and out of it a voice spoke, saying, "Throw
 down the altar! Is should have been thrown down long ago."
  
 Suddenly fire fell from the sky, dropping through the air like burning
 rain so strike the sword. Zhaligkeer flashed, isa flame rekindled and
 blazing with white heat into the gloom roundabout. The people could not
 bear the piercing brightness and threw their hands over their eyes so
 shut out the awful splendor of that holy fire
  
 The flame is back in the sword! thought Quensin. The Most High has
 not abandoned me! He is still with me; he never lefil The realization
 burned through Quentin just as the flame burned in the sword.
  
 "The sword! The sword!" howled Nimrood. "Give me the sword!"
  
 "No!" shouted Quentin. Is flashed with terrible brilliance, and fire
 seemed top from the shimmering blade, scattering light all around.
 "You shall never hold this blade." With that, the King raised she
 Shining One over his head and brought it down with all his strength
 onto she massive stone altar.
  
 There came a blinding flash and the sound of hot metal suddenly plunged
 into cold water as the scent of burning stone seared the air. The
 pound rumbled deep in the earth, and the stone slab of the altar
 sipped, tilted, and then slid sideways, cloven in half; the stone
 jagged and smoking from the place where the Shining One had bitten deep
 into the rock.
  
 A cry went up from the crowd, a gasp from a thousand throats, and they
 drew back as one from the sighs of their King standing before the
 crumbling altar with the flaming sword in his hand.
  
 The High Priest threw his hands upward in horror and ran back up the
 steps into the temple, his priests fleeing with him. The temple guards
 threw down their weapons and ran after.
  
 Nimrood's arm went up; the dagger flashed in his hand. Toli seeing his
 chance, lowered his head and charged into the sorcerer, knocking the
 boy from his grasp. Gerin sprawled fprward, rolled to his feet, and
 dashed so his mother's open arms. Bra swept him up and hugged the boy
 so her. The crowd surged for ward around thenL
  
 "You!" acreedied Ninirood as Toli. Twice you have cheated me. Never
 sgml" Toli leaped to the side, bus wish his hands bound could not keep
 his balance and fell backward onto the steps of the
  
 Like a cat the old wizard pounced on him and plunged the dagger into
 Toll's chest, then fled up the steps to the High Temple.
  
 FIF1Y-THREE
  
 Tim ozouim rumbled and trembled under their feet, and she crowd in the
 temple yard screamed in terror as the ground shifted, cracking pawing
 stones and searing great gaping rents in she earth. The crevice which
 had, opened beneath the broken altar spread toward she temple.
 Heedless of all else, Quensin lieu to the temple steps shouting,
 "Theidol Ronuard! Hurry!" He reached' Toli'. body, now crumpled upon
 the steps, and bent over it, pluck sag the cruel dauer him his chess and
 flinging it away.
  
 From above him on the steps them came a rattling laughter. He glanced
 up and saw Nimrood standing over them, his head thrown back, the
 hateful sound bubbling up from his throat like the shriek of a carrion
 crow. Ronsard reached Quentin first. "Take Toli to safety," the King
 ordered He leaped to his fees and flew up the temple steps.
  
 "Sire! Come back! Is is felling!" cried the knight.
  
 The fissure in the earth had now reached she steps and split them. The
 air trembled with the sound of churning earth and shattering ssone Roof
 tiles rained down, smashing on the flagging. The pillars swayed
 dangerously as the lintels cracked and gave way, sending huge chunks of
 stone careening downward. Quensin scrambled up th. heaving steps, the
 sword bright in his hand. Nirrood saw him and screeched, "Stay back!"
 He whirled away
  
 I 1005 I
  
 and Quentin raced after him, catching the sorcerer by a trailing edge
 of his priest's robe.
  
 "Ach!" Nimrood fought to free himself from the robes, bus only
 entangled himself further. Quentin held on with all his might and
 yanked, jerking the wizard off his fees. Desperately the old sorcerer
 writhed, squirming on the silting floor like a snake. "Save me!" he
 hissed. "I will do anything anything you ask. I can give you wealth,
 bring you gloryl I will destroy your enemies! Save me!"
  
 The blade flashed in Quentin's hand, and she Shining One sang in the
 air, descending in a deadly arc, striking down upon the sorcerer's
 neck. With one lass shriek he fell back into a shriveled heap and lay
 stilL Nizarood the Necromancer was dead.
  
 Now stones and brickwork tumbled, and the pillars groaned as pieces of
 the roof caved in. Quentin could hear the thunderous roar as the heavy
 stone slabs collapsed, and the foundation beneath his fees shook with
 the cataclysm. The great hews of stone on which the High Temple stood
 shuddered and convulsed.
  
 Thee inside the temple fell on their faces before the sacred rock and
 called upon the gods of old to save them Ariell Arsell Zoart Heoth!
 But the names fell from their lips dead and devoid of power. The floor
 rolled under them, and they watched in honor as a seam opened in the
 anointed face of the sacred rack. The atone splintered and popped as
 it crumbled before their eyes. The priests wailed and thuisselves,
 covng their heads whh shair robes.
  
 In the temple yard the terrified populace swept through the gates and
 streamed down she winding trail to safety in she valley below. Dodging
 broken flags, Quemin ran back worn the court to where Toli's body had
 been removed.
  
 Theido and Ronmard looked on as Quensin auth so his knees beside the
 body of his friend. "Toli, fix give me!" he cried, snatch mug up a
 lifeless hand and ckatdaing is so him. "I drove you from me. I blamed
 you for all that happened, and is was not your fault. I have wronged
 you, my friend. I an sorry!" The King wept, sears flooding his eyes
 and splashing freely down his face.
  
 The others came so stand by him; he felt Brie's hands on his shoulders.
 "He is gone!" sobbed Quentin. "And I am so blame!" The Su.cord and
 the Flame
  
 Esme knelt down beside Quentin and laid a hand on his sleeve. "In Dekra
 I had a vision a vision of what would happen here today."
  
 "You knew?" The King raised sorrowful eyes to the Lady beside him.
 "You saw all and did not try so prevent it?"
  
 "Not all. I saw the temple brought down but not the fate of Toli and
 Gem," she said. Quentin only stared sadly at the body of his friend.
 "The Most High showed me what would come, and I did not see the death
 of our friend. That was never in his purpose."
  
 "That may be," said Theido. "But many things happen in this world
 contrary to the Most High's purpose. It is the way of the world."
  
 "Aye," agreed Ronsard, nodding sadly. "No man rises from the bed of
 death."
  
 "Why not," Esme asked, "if it pleases the god?"
  
 Just then another tremor shook the yard, and all turned to see the last
 remnants of the High Temple come crashing down in a thunderous roar.
 Smoke and dust climbed toward the sun in a thick gray-white column.
 "You see this?" said Esme. "The temple is destroyed just as it was
 revealed to me. Is is gone, and its evil is destroyed with is."
  
 They looked on in wonder as Esme, her face illumined int ha glowing
 inner light, stretched her hands over Toli's body. She touched the
 crimson wound in his chest with her palm, then pulled back his tunic.
 The cloth around the wound was sticky with blood and ragged where the
 dagger had slashed into the flesh. But though the skin was stained a
 deep red from the flowing blood, there was now no wound to be seen.
  
 "Look!" said Queen Bria, who was clutching as her mother's sleeve.
 "Toli is awaking!"
  
 "He is alive!" shouted Germ happily.
  
 "Toli?" said Quentm, peering into his friend's face. Toli's eyelids
 flickered and opened, revealing quick black eyes which gazed upward at
 the ring of faces above him. "Toli, you are alive! Alive!" Quentin
 fell upon him nd lifted him in a powerful embrace.
  
 Theido and Ronsard stared in disbelief at she scene before them, then
 leapt forward to pound Toli on the back. Bria and
  
 I 1007 I
  
 Mines wept, their eyes filling with happy tears. Gem jumped and
 whooped for joy.
  
 "What did I do to deserve all this?" asked Toll when they released him
 at lasL
  
 "I would not have believed is if I had not been standing here to see
 is!" Ronsard shook his head in amazement.
  
 "I am not sure I believe it yet," added Theido.
  
 Esme threw her arms around Toli's neck and kissed him. "How do you
 feel?"
  
 "Feel? I ..... ." He paused and glanced around him as the ruin of the
 temple, and then down as his own blood-soaked cloth lug "I
 feelasiflhave missed ousonsomething... Nimrood! Is he "
  
 "Dead. They are all dead," said Quentin. "But you have rejoined the
 living."
  
 "Did Nimrood do this so me?"
  
 "A mortal wound, sir," said Theido. "I saw him strike you down. Do
 you remember it?"
  
 Toli shook his head dazedly. "I remember knocking Gem free and falling
 backward. I remember his face above me... then nothing until I woke up
 here."
  
 "The Moat High has restored your life to us, Toll," declared Mines.
 "Great is the Most High!" They all joined in praising the god and
 thanking him for raising up TolL Their joyous gigs rang in the empty
 yard and echoed among the heaps of fallen stone as they started down
 the winding trail so the valley below. AbQve them the smoke and dust
 still ascended from the ruin, drifting and fading' on the wind as the
 clouds roiled away so reveal a sky of sparkling blue.
  
 By she time they reached the valley and passed before the wondeming
 stares of the people lining the trail, word was already winging
 throughout Mensandor proclaiming the triumph of the Dragon King and the
 power of the new god, the Most High, the only true god, who caused
 altars so crumble, temples so fall, and dead men to rise up and walk.
  
 FIFTY FOUR
  
 hi i massive great hell the Dragon King sat on his high throne.
 Dressed in his most regal finery, he wore a royal blue cloak wish the
 ins ignis of the dragon worked in gold the cloak was secured by a gold
 dragon broach and chain. On his feet were high hoots of soft red
 leather; and his gold ring-she ring Eskevar had worn sat high on his
 finger. Across his lap he held the Shining One in its sheath, his hand
 resting lightly on its bejeweled hilt. The great caiven doors of the
 hall had been opened wide to allow all who would come to crowd in to
 witness their King dispensing justice. The people stood in ranks among
 the gleaming black columns, lined the balustrades of the upper
 galleries three deep and pressed ferward to the steps of the dais.
  
 When all had gashevcd in, the trumpeter sounded a call. The mike *d
 toa whisper in the hall and Queuld, "When I was aba I ood in the court
 of King Eskevar and waiched him mete out judce and favor with a wime
 and generous hand. And I vowed that
 ifmrmkataskfelltome'Iwouldsrytobeatleastasrighteow asad good as
 Bukevar.
  
 "A King does not often have the opportunity of rewarding
 thosewhoaervehimastheydeaerve.Buttodaylwiildomybest. First, however, I
 will punish the offenders." He nodded to the trumpeter standing on the
 dais, wearing a sabard emblazoned with the royal device. The youth
 blew a strong, clear note, which was answered by the sound of marching
 fees.
  
 Into she great ball came a contingent of knights dressed in their best
 armor, their bresesplates burnished bright and their long scarlet
 cloaks billowing as they approached. Between them marched Lord
 Ameronis and his friend Lord Lupollen, both in chains. Both
  
 I 1009 I
  
 were pay-faced with dismay an kept their eyes lowered, notk
 solookastheKing.
  
 "Lord Ameronis," said Quentin when the knights had damn forward so the
 Ibos of she th rosas "Look at me, sir" The din. pined lord raised
 timid eyes. "It is with a distinctly altered aitude that we meet
 again, eb? You have had time to think on your crimes, and so have L"
  
 At this Lord Ameronis trembled visibly, ezpecting the worst.
  
 The King continued. "Your crime is one of ombitim, which I can
 understand and forgive far I, toe, have been susbitimui may own way.
 You wanted this crown and th rome far your own, but tim is nothing more
 than any lord dreams of me time or another, and so I forgive you ther
  
 "You caused me anguish and infliceed hart upon me while I was suffering
 under she grief of great loss. You took the sword. Zhaligkeer, which
 you knew to be mine and which you knew would have saved my son, and yet
 you withheld it. These are hurts uc. ticed against me, and as one man
 to another I will forgive them, far you were blinded by your
 powu4ess.
  
 "But your actions caused peat hurt and injury to soldiers who had no
 choice but so defend their King wish limb and life. Many brave fell in
 battle, same never so rue again and their blood calkuiesodojustice.
  
 "I wuld have you ezecuted" here Ameronis flinched "but what would the
 shedding of your blood accomplish? Very little, I persuaded, though
 there are those among us wb would take some mo antre of satisfaction
 share.
  
 "No, I have decided that you shall live, and that she sswa of all the
 aggrieved widows you have left without husbands, mad all the children
 you have left fatherless shall be placed an your hands."
  
 "Mahi" cried Amernnis. "I will have so sell half my lands and all my
 gain for the rest of my life will be forfeiti"
  
 "So be it." said the King flatly. "At is ass you will live torn the
 wrong you have dome redressed. The families of the thin will become
 your families, the aminsed will become your brothers. And so you will
 treat them, far if ever complaint is raised against you hereafter, your
 life will be ended.
  
 "And you. Lord Lupollen," continued Qtaensln, "you chose to throw your
 substance to she support of ygur friend Ameronis. As you thought to
 share in she spoils of his victory, so will you share in the loss of
 his defeat. For she sentence I have pronounced upon him shall be yours
 as welL I have no doubt that Ameronis will welcome your aid now and in
 the years to come."
  
 Neit the remaining lords were brought before the throne. They paid
 homage respectfully, bus remained grave and stolid. "My lords, I am of
 two minds about you," said the King. "You had is within your power to
 turn Anieronis aside before he carried out his scheme, and you did not.
 Yet, unlike Lupollen, you saw clearly enough who to serve once the
 issue was forced.
  
 "Therefore, Lords Edfrith, Gorloic Kelkin, and Denellon, I do hereby
 condemn your disloyalty. But I stand ready to call you friends again
 if you will swear fealty once more to the throne."
  
 The lords went down on one knee and swore before all the assembly an
 oath of loyalty to their monarch. When they had finished, they took
 their places with the rest.
  
 "As for the others," continued she King, "Nimroood, the High Priest,
 and their foul flock their punishment has been delivered by the Most
 High, the final judge of all; and let no man say they received more
 than their due." The pronouncement brought a murmur from all gathered
 there.
  
 "Now then," said Quentin, "bring forth my new friends that I may reward
 them." The trumpeter sounded his call again, and the onlookers craned
 their necks so set a small boy, not much older than Prince Germ,
 approach the throne timidly, fbllowed by Pym the tinker and Tip, his
 dog. Quentin beckoned to the youngster's parents who hung back meekly
 in the ranks. "Come closer, good people." The farmer and his wife
 crept forward shyly and came to kneel beside their son and the
 tinker.
  
 "Rise, my friends," said the King. "For you are my friends-as true as
 any who have ever served the Dragon King's throne.
  
 "Renny, your young hears yearns for knighthood, bus you have already
 shown yourself as brave as any knight in the realm, though you possess
 neither horse nor armor. Is is still your wish so be a knigh'
  
 "Yes, Sire," came the small voice in reply. "More than anything."
  
 / 1011 I
  
 "Thensobeis. Onshisdsurnmshaflbeplacedonthe roll of the King's
 knights. When you come of age, you will aMer into the knighthood in
 serv ace so the realm." Quentin paused. "But ak night must learn
 so ride and ha muathavmuchskillat arm. Therefore, you may keep the pony
 Tarky wha you found and
 triedsoren;keephimumilsuchtimessyouareabhsohandlea charger from the
 King's stables. Then you shall choose a mount of your own. What do
 you say so that, len ny
  
 Words escaped the boy, bus the light in his eyes said all
  
 "My son has asked that you be allowed so sake izusruction with him
 under she muser-as erma of Askelon Castle A knight of the King, even a
 knight in training, must be housed and fed ins manner worthy of his
 master. So, Sir len ny the crown will endow you with an annual stipend
 which your parents will use for ymi as they deem fit."
  
 The joy which shone on the faces of the three cosdd not be contained,
 and they bowed their thanks again and again as they rnturned so their
 places in the crowd.
  
 "And you, uood tinker," said the King. Pym folded his hands over his
 knee and gazed upward expectantly. "You found the Shining One and kept
 it safety hidden away, returning for it when you knew your King's need.
 Doubtless you would have delivered it into my hand had you not been
 prevented."
  
 "Yes, Sire, it is a way fact, it is," replied Pym.
  
 "And it has reached my ears that you have long desired a horse and
 wagon to sake your wares from sown so village on your route." As the
 tinker's puzzled expression, Quentin inked, "Is this nor
  
 "Oh, yes, Yer Highness. Mere than ye ... bus "
  
 "Yes? Was there something else?"
  
 "The sharping stone, Yet Majesty, Sire. We'una had in mind a sharping
 stone on a treadle-foot far sharping knives and shears and such
 like."
  
 "Of course, the sharpening stone! Such an oversighti Yes, you shall
 have the finest sharpening stone as can be found in all Mensandor. And
 Castle Askeloii shall be your first stop whenever you pass this way."
  
 Pym clapped his hands at his good fortune, and Tip barked her
  
 The Sword and &e Thin,
  
 master's happiness. The two withdrew to the laughter and high acclaim
 of those gathered in the great ball. "lastly," said Quentin when
 silence again reclaimed the hall, "I would reward my old friends. Come
 forward, Toli, Theido, and Ronsard." He rose and descended from the
 dais to meet them at she foot of the throne. "No, do not kneel so me,
 brave sirs. Brothers do not kneel to one another, for your fliendship
 has proven itself of highest mettle, stronger and more true than are
 the ties of birth and blood.
  
 "How else can I reward your steadfastness and courage? What could I
 give you that you do not already have? lands, position, title? And
 yes you stood ready so give of these things, and even life itself; for
 a friend the more when that friend faltered. You did not abandon me,
 but acted for me with wisdom and courage, each one of you, in your
 actions, declaring yourself more noble than Kings.
  
 "So I give you these tokens of my esteem and gratitude." Quensin
 beckoned so a page who came forward bearing aboard covered with a
 runner of blue velvet on which rested three golden dragon broaches just
 like his own. The King took the first one from the board and fastened
 it as Theido's shoulder, saying, "Theido, whose counsels ever wise and
 good...." He took upi he next, affixed it to Ronsard's cloak "And
 Ronsard, whose dauntless courage is matched only by the strength of his
 arm...." Quentin lifted the remaining broach and placed is on Toli's
 doak "And Toli, whose love and loyalty hold firm even unto death. From
 this day forth you are Princes of the realm." After a pause Quentin
 added, "Toli, you I would reward farther by freeing you from your oath
 of service to me. Today and henceforth you are no longer servant."
  
 Quentin turned so the assemblage and presented the three with a sweep
 of his arm. "Behold my royal friends," he said. "Let all men pay each
 one the courtesy and respect due a King."
  
 As once the whole assembly made a deep bow and then affirmed she King's
 reward with loud shouts of acclamation that rang to the vault of she
 great hell and throughout the corridors and galleries of Askelon
 Castle.
  
 Quentin mounted so his throne again and proclaimed, "This day will be a
 day of celebition throughout all Mensandor. Let there be feasting and
 music and entertainments for everyone!" The
  
 / 1013 I
  
 cheers wMswednd.werebnedIsthebheeo(the trumpets which sounded their
 damn cal damoqilow the mded from the high battlements to the ansi the
 cuutryskle beyond. WIh udebratlon bss he psar she trumpets aid. "Cam.
 and abate i. the rejoleingi"
  
 And the people wha heard dut happy sound left their wos*, pus on their
 finest dishes, and atuwd for the csstle t juinis the high merriment mid
 htivldus.
  
 Is wss nearing dusk dam rid-gold disc of the sun was lowering In the
 sky away westward mr Oar Mime brad hack before Questi found an
 qiportunity to slip away alone. Ihuer saddled and waiting for him and
 bore him quickly through shedesertad streets of Askelon and oat auto
 the phiL
  
 Quentin found the uhaded bower wkheut sq trinle he had been share
 before with Durwin and resumbered thu bank oudmoking the forest pool asa
 place where the hermitlovesitocomeaud idle away the hours on a
 sumnier's day. The grave moumi fruit and newly overbid with atom a
 imple grave sock sa the hermit would have wanted-and already tender
 gross shoots of ninw pm. could be seen poking up betwaus the reeb.
  
 TRam King stood far a long time gazing reflectively at the gmvej
 remewhuh the lifa he had known with the Holy Hermit of NIpin, the
 simple fa& called him adD. T temporal 1k had uw aided, bus another had
 began, a knew slut he would see his Aimid q , dust they would be
 together ins place without soparasion or the pa isM intrusion of death,
 mid he wss content to wait until that d
  
 The sound of hoolbqnts siguied the aid of his quiet reverie, and lam
 turned to me two riders qapreachiug. Ho waimd while they dimiounted
 and tied their homes so a poplar brands beside his. "So, I have been
 followed. I thought yost two might have found a better way so ooy
 yourselves," said Quentin.
  
 Toll grinned mad took s hand. "We wanted so talk to you in privacy,"
 he explained. "I saw you leave the celibratim, so we wailed a little
 mid came suit you.."
  
 Quentin nodded, but said nothing, waiting for Taitocos3im. The Sumd and
 dm Flame ron glanced sideways at the won ian beside him and then back at
 the King, licked his lip." and announced, "We have made. decision...
 "Oh?" teased Quentin. "Was there a decision so be made?"
  
 Toll dropped his eyes. "Please, it was not an easy choice so make."
 "lam sorry. Forgive me," said Quentin quickly. "Of course it would
 not be easy for either of you. And it will not be easy for me. If I
 make light of is, it is ooiy because I shall feel your absence most
 acutely."
  
 "Absence?"
  
 "You will be going away, I know. But I could not be happier for either
 of you. Is is the best thing " He stopped when he saw she look which
 passed between Toll and Dame.
  
 Esuam laughed gently and replied, "We are not going away. Ar least not
 togeher. Not yet."
  
 "N.," said Toll firmly.
  
 "I have re lamed you from service. You are froe.-you and
  
 "To do as we please. Yes, and we have chosen our coupe."
  
 "I ant going so Debra," said Dame. "I Mt. something shore that I must
 uarch out for myself. I kit the spirit of the God Most High move
 within me; I bade vision. He may be calling me to set ve him in a
 spec isi way. I want to go back and find out I ama find out. I want so
 learn all I em of the one I have pledged my life so before I make sIlk
 with another."
  
 "I see," said Quensin nodding. "I know how you feel. I felt the sane
 way, but is seems that Debra was never chosen for me. My future lies
 on a different path." He turned so Toil. "And you?"
  
 "I will remain by your side, Kensa. I told you once that for men of my
 race, no higher honor could come so them but that they serve a great
 master and help him achieve his greatness. You have released me from
 my oath, as you did once before, and I sake it up again and renew is."
 Toil looked lovingly as Dame and clasped her hand more tightly. "It is
 true that we hive each other, and perhapa someday we will join our
 lives. But for now " He smiled, and the
  
 I 1015 I
  
 light kindled in his deep, dark eyes. "For now you are saddled with me
 o again, my friend."
  
 "And forever more, so it would seem."
  
 "Come, thea," said TolL "Let no return so rho celebration together."
 Ho glanced as slam pave, and then at his master. "If you are ready."
  
 Quentin looked back at she simple mound and said, "Yes, I am ready. We
 have already said our good-byes. Ho em to me, you see.
 Ididnorealimitthenlwasinnoconditiontoknowforwtaia.
  
 "In those first black days w I was out searching for my son insane with
 grief and rahaussed beyond or sleep I Ibund myself am slam Holy Island.
 Perhaps I had been led there. However
 iswwinsppemredsomelknownowthatitwaahe.Heaaid goodbye and told me we
 would be together again. Ho knew how muchitmesussome soseehimome lass
 time, andhacamebackso
 tellmsouuetlntheMmslilgh.Hadlbutlisseaed.Iwouldhave borne this trial
 more easily and accounted myself more worthily." T looked long at his
 mr and said fliully, "Yes, Keats, you have changed. I saw it when you
 stood in she temple yard, and again in the great hall. You have cern
 so terms with your fralkiesas a man, and this makes you more of a King
 than before a true Priest King."
  
 Qunasin shrugged. "I only know that I no longer burn to ins, pirate the
 new era. The Most High will accomplish that as ha will, and in his own
 time."
  
 Tha three rode beck so Asbelon across the plain, stopping at the site
 of the Kings Temple ruins, where inexplicably scores of moved among the
 toppled stones, dea ring away she rubble. Quentin recognised his master
 mason among them and hailed him. "Dersraml What is happening here?
 What are you doing?"
  
 "Sire," the bowed, "we are preparing tho site for bung:'
  
 "Why? Who gave the orders?"
  
 The old mason scratched his jaw and cocked his head to one side. "No
 one ordered it, my lord. It was the townspeople's idea; they
 insisted-said their new god ought to have a new temple. They aim so
 build one themselves. With your blessing, of course; we will
  
 The Su,ord aud the Plume follow the plans you have made." Bertram
 scuttled away then, returning over the heap of broken stone so
 supervise the work.
  
 "Do you see this?" said Toli. "The new era has come in force. It is
 here around us. Do you wish to stay and help?"
  
 Quentin raised his eyes to the sky where the first evening stars were
 already blazing like jewels in the clear high dome of heaven, though
 away so the west the horizon still held the rosy sins of the sun.
 "No," replied Quentin, lifting the reins and turning Blazer toward
 home. "Come. The Most High has chosen other hands to build his
 temple. That is as is should be."
  
 Bria met them as the balcony overlooking she garden. She wrapped her
 arms around her husband. "I wondered where the three of you had gone."
  She glanced at Toli and then back to the King. "Is all well?"
  
 "Is has never been better," replied Quentin, kissing her lightly on the
 cheek. Throughout she enormous garden below, lanterns were being lit
 among the trees so twinkle like stars in a firmament of leaves.
  
 "Then come in to the table; the banquet is about so begin," said Bria,
 leading them across the balcony. The doors of the great hail had been
 thrown open wide to reveal long tables with food of every' kind and
 description, and a host of eager guests waiting to be called so join
 in. Everywhere music played, and laughter drifted and mingled on the
 soft evening breeze, along with the sweet perfume of the garlanded
 flowers which bedecked she hail and garden.
  
 "Yes, but the feast can wait a moment longer. First I want so see my
 children. Let me go and find them."
  
 Toli, Esme, and Bria watched him hurry down the steps into the garden,
 darting among the merrymakers in search of the Prince and Princesses.
 "I remember a night like this exactly like this when King Eskevar
 returned," said Toli. "A celebration so rival this one, to be sure."
  
 "No, not like this one," said Bria. Her voice held a trace of sadness.
 "My father even then did not care for his family as Quensin does."
 She smiled and nodded to where the King returned bearing one youngster
 on his back and two others in his arms, all of them laughing happily.
 "You see? He has changed."
  
 Toli nodded slowly. "A new era is begun, my Lady."
  
 "Indeed! Then let us hope is lasts a thousand years," said Bria.
  
 "Ten thousand!" added Esme.
  
 "Let us hope is lasts forever," said TolL
  
 "Come along," called Quentin, striding past them. "We must not be late
 for our own celebration!" He marched through she doors wish his young
 ones, and Bria took her place as his side; Toll and Esme came on
 behind. They all reached the high sable so find Ronsard and Theido,
 with Benny and his parents, Pym the tin her with Tip as his fees, and
 all the other guests of honor already assembled and in their places.
  
 Quentin seized his goblet and held is aloft saying, "Welcome fair
 friends one and all. Let the banquet begin!" And they all sat down so
 feast in the Hall of the Dragon King. The End.................... Also
 from Lion Publishing by Stephen Lawhead
  
 SONG OF ALBION
  
 A new cycle, mining the rich vein of Celtic mythology.
  
 Book 1: The Paradise War
  
 Wolves prowling the streets of Oxford, a Green Man haunting the
 Highlands... Lewis Gillies is face to face with an ancient mystery.
 The road north leads to a mystical crossroads, and he finds himself in
 a place where two worlds meet, in the time-between-times. This world
 and the Otherworld are delicately inter-woven, each dependent on the
 other. But a breach has opened between the worlds and cosmic
 catastrophe threatens.
  
 Book 2: The Silver Hand
  
 The great king, Meldryn Mawr, is dead and his kingdom lies in ruins.
 Treachery and brutality stalk the Otherworld kingdom of Prydain.
 Prince Meldron, prompted by the cunning and grasping Siawn Hy, now
 claims the throne. But the hard Tegid Tathal chooses another and the
 Day of Strife begins. Kingship and sovereignty, passion and power,
 heartbreak and hope lie at the heart of this story. The fate of Albion
 and the destiny of the long-awaited Champion, Silver Hand, are
 inextricably interwoven.
  
 Book 3: The Endless Knot
  
 Fire rages in Albion: a strange hidden fire, dark flamed invisible to
 the eye. Seething and churning, it bums, gathering flames of darkness
 into its hot black heart. Unseen and unknown, it bums... Llew Silver
 Hand is High King of Albion and the Brazen Man has defied his
 sovereignty. Liew must journey into the Foul Land to redeem his
 greatest treasure. The last battle begins.
  
 THE PENDRAGON CYCLE
  
 A magnificent epic set against the back cloth of Roman Britain and the
 legends of King Arthur and lost Atlantis.
  
 Book 1: Talwsin
  
 I will weep no more for the lost, asleep in their water graves. The
 voices of the departed speak: Tell our story; they say. It is worthy
 to be told. And so I take my pen and write..."
  
 So begins the tragedy of lost Atlantis, extinguished for ever in a
 hideous paroxysm of earth and sea. Out of the holocaust, three
 crippled ships emerge to bear King Avallach and his daughter to the
 cloud-bound isle of Ynys Prydein.
  
 This is a tale that spans two worlds, a vision that sings in the heart,
 and a love that spawns the miracle of Merlin, Arthur... and a destiny
 that is more than a kingdom.
  
 Book 2: Merlin
  
 Was there ever a time such as this? Never! And that is both the glory
 and the terror of it. If men knew what it was that loomed before
 them... they would stop their mouths with their cloaks for screaming.
 It is their blessing and their curse that they do not know. But I
 know; I, Merlin, have always known..."
  
 This is Merlin's story, the story of the Island of the Mighty of
 warring battle chiefs and bloody Saecsen invaders, of the hidden Hill
 Folk and the waning power of Rome.
  
 Book 3: Artkur
  
 It is the eve of Christ Mass and the noblemen are gathered at
 Londinium, to test themselves against the sword in the stone, This is
 the moment for which Arthur was born, the beginning of his story. It is
 a tale of high hope and bitter endeavour, of loyalty and treachery, of
 spiritual quest and the winning of a kingdom. It ends as it began, in
 an aura of mystery
  
 Book 4: Pendragon
  
 I, Myrddin Emrys, was with Arthur from the beginning. I stood beside
 him on his darkest day. A day unlike any other in the long history of
 our race a day of deceit and dread, and great glory. For on that day
 Arthur won the name he treasured above all others: Pendragon. That is
 a tale worth telling."
  
 When the Black Boar, Twrch Trwyth, leads his Van dali hordes into the
 Island of the Mighty, can Arthur, the Bear of Britain, stem the tide of
 destruction? "Even with the wise hard Myrddin Emrys, Llenlleawg the
 champion and dauntless Queen Gwenhwyvar at his side, can Arthur defeat
 the invader and become Pendragon of Britain? Or will he die in the
 attempt?
  
 Book 5: Grail
  
 War, drought and plague have brought Britain to the brink of
 destruction. Then, in the great battle which finally brings peace to
 his tormented land, Arthur is mortally wounded. But at Ynys Avallach
 he is miraculously healed by a sacred and secret relic, the Holy
 Grail.
  
 But evil in a beguiling and subtle form attacks. Arthur's most loyal
 champion is seduced into committing a most hideous betrayal. The Grail
 and Arthur's beloved queen vanish into the dark unknown. Soon chaos
 and fear are once more abroad in the land.
  
 In pursuit, Arthur and his faithful Dragon Flight confront fearsome
 spirits and magic in abattle to the death for the soul of the nation
 and the future of the Island of the Mighty.
  
 Traveller, debt-dodger, itinerant critic and writer of history books
 nobody buys, Orion Treet is astounded to be invited to accompany a top
 secret mission: to observe and document an extraterrestrial colony on a
 newly discovered planet.
  
 But the paradise planet Treet and his companions are promised is a
 nightmare world locked in a spiral of hate, fear and death. The
 Earthlings' arrival rekindles an impossibly ancient feud a deadly
 conflict between two highly evolved civilizations. It is a struggle
 for the future of a world, abattle where there can be no spectators
 and everyone must choose a side.
  
 DREAM THIEF
  
 The dreams had been at Spence again. He could feel their lingering
 presence like a dimly remembered whisper. They were unsettling in a
 vague sort of way haunting. There was a word that seemed to fit. He
 felt haunted."
  
 Dr. Spencer Reston, sleep scientist on space station Gotham, has
 become a vital link in a cosmic coup masterminded by a mysterious
 creature known as the Dream Thief.
  


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