Lioness Rampant

7 PERIOD OF MOURNING

THE NEXT MORNING JONATHAN CALLED A MEETING of his most trusted advisors: Myles, Gary, the Provost, Duke Gareth, Duke Baird, Raoul, and Alanna. Feeling uneasy, Alanna went. In the last year she’d grown more used to taking action than to sitting in meetings. Also, she was unsure of her place in such a gathering. She was a knight; all the others had great responsibilities or wisdom, like Myles. She didn’t even hold a large fief.

Arriving early, she found the king-to-be in his small council chamber. He rose and kissed her cheek. “Thank you for coming,” he said. “I hate to plunge into things just when you’ve come home, but we have a great deal to do.” As she took a seat a little way down the table from him, he asked, “Have you given some thought to the place you’ll hold in my reign?”

Alanna was startled by the question. “What place—? I never thought that I’d hold any place, not really. Although it would be nice to have something to do,” she admitted. “I like roaming around, but I like it far better when I have a purpose. Maybe Liam is happy wandering from country to country like the wind. I feel as if I’m a sort of weapon, but a weapon must have someone to wield it, or it just lies around rusting.” She grinned, suddenly embarrassed. “Listen to me. Next thing you know I’ll start sounding like our old philosophy master.”

Jonathan groaned. “That old bore!”

Gary peered inside. “Is this a private gathering, or can anyone come?” He took a chair, plumping a stack of documents on the table in front of him. Seeing Alanna’s horrified look, he said kindly, “Don’t worry, the papers aren’t for this. They’re documents I refer to constantly, so I carry them around. It saves waiting for a servant to fetch them.”

“Gary, how awful!” she exclaimed.

“Nonsense,” Duke Gareth’s son retorted. “I had no idea before how interesting a kingdom’s business can be. To put diverse things like rainfall, the number of people leaving their farms, and the price of iron goods together and find out how they affect each other—”

“He’ll go on all day if you let him,” Raoul interrupted as he took his seat. The Lord Provost sat beside the big Commander and nodded a greeting; Alanna nodded back. Raoul went on, “Me, I have no talent for administration. Give me a good horse and a patrol any day!”

“You underestimate yourself, Raoul,” said Jon. “The Bazhir love him,” he explained to Alanna. “He’s made a good impression on the northerners and the foreign soldiers in the King’s Own as well.”

Alanna beamed at her large friend, who blushed. “I always knew you’d be a credit to us,” she teased him.

When she saw Duke Gareth at the door, Alanna got up and went to greet her teacher, hiding her shock as she knelt before him. The Duke, always lean, was rail thin. Streaks of gray had turned his hair a muddy yellow-brown.

Gary’s father looked Alanna over as she rose. Finally he smiled. “You have lived up to your promise,” he said quietly. “We are all very proud of our Lioness. Welcome home.”

Coming from Duke Gareth, who had always been sparing of praise, it was the highest honor she could receive. “Thank you, sir,” she whispered as she blinked tears away. “You’re very kind. I tried to be a credit to my training—to you.” She bowed herself back to her chair as the Duke sat beside Gary. The others busied themselves with papers, pretending not to notice.

Baird and Myles arrived together while Alanna mastered herself. The Duke greeted her cheerfully. At the reception the night before he’d complimented her on her work as a healer among the Bazhir. Myles winked at her as he settled into place.

Alanna fidgeted as servants put out water, paper, ink, and fruit. How long will I be stuck here before I can go riding? she wondered. I don’t have any place at councils like this!

Jonathan cleared his throat, and the conversations stopped. “Thank you all for coming. I know the sixty days until the coronation seems like a great deal of time, but we have much to do.” He glanced at Duke Gareth. “I’ve given some thought to the appointment of a King’s Champion.” Alanna’s throat went dry. “Uncle Gareth was my father’s. It seems to have been an easy post for him—”

“Thank the gods,” the Duke said dryly. “None of the others were.”

Jonathan joined the company’s chuckling before he went on. “Except for taking part in the coronation of my father, he was never called on to represent—or defend—the throne. I think many have forgotten the post exists. Uncle no longer wants it.” Duke Gareth nodded. “We feel someone young should be Champion. A proven warrior, of course. One who is known to our people and our neighbors.”

She saw all too clearly the direction this was taking. “Raoul,” Alanna croaked, looking at the Knight Commander. Grinning, Raoul shook his head. “Or Gary,” she tried as Gary tugged at his mustache to cover a smile. “Both fine, strong fellows, liked by—”

“No,” Jonathan said firmly. The others in the room fought their amusement. “I want them where they are—Raoul with the King’s Own and Gary as Prime Minister.”

“Geoffrey of Meron.” She wiped sweat from her upper lip. “Noble, far more respectable than me—”

“I’ve made up my mind.” The Provost was the last to grin as Jon spoke. All the others had seen such confrontations between the prince and his obstinate squire.

“You’ll make enemies,” Alanna said flatly. “There’s never been a female Champion, not even when women could be warriors! Not in Tortall!”

“That’s true,” Myles said. “And it’s understandable that you would be concerned about your standing in the eyes of the people. There are some, still, who feel a lady knight is unnatural. And at first there was a lot of feeling against it. Even the king—” He stopped and looked at Jon. “But a lot of that thinking has changed.”

“Like it or no, you’re a legend, after the Bazhir and winnin’ your shield,” the Provost said in his blunt way. “Girls play at bein’ Lioness. I saw one chasin’ her brother down the street, wavin’ a stick and callin’ for the Conté Duke to submit to her sword.”

The men laughed. Alanna blushed and continued to shake her head.

“Should we call a minstrel and have him sing all the Lioness songs in his memory?” Duke Baird asked, his eyes kind. “The newest is the one in which the Lioness and the Dragon defeat whole armies of Saren mercenaries. I like it, although now that I see you again, I remember you aren’t ten feet tall.”

“The Bazhir are for you,” Raoul added. “You’re the Woman Who Rides Like a Man. You also helped to bring down the Black City. The other one to do that will be king. Your own tribe would be the first to say it’s your right to stand beside Jon.”

Jonathan met her eyes, his gaze friendly but determined. “And let’s not forget that you journeyed into the stuff of fables and brought back the Dominion Jewel.” He took it from his belt-purse and set it on the table, where it shimmered. “This alone would cause you to be given a high place, even without everything else you’ve done. So say ‘thank you,’ Alanna.”

“Jonathan,” she whispered, knowing it was useless.

“Say ‘thank you,’ Alanna,” Myles told her gently.

She looked at the others, but they weren’t looking at her. They watched the Jewel, speculating or wondering, as their natures dictated. She realized then that even they had changed the way they thought about her. Only Jon met her eyes, and he would give no quarter. She had earned this honor. Did she really want to refuse?

“You said you wanted to be useful,” Jon pointed out.

Alanna had to grin—trapped by my own tongue, she thought. “Thank you, Jonathan,” she whispered.

He smiled. “You won’t regret it—or at least, I won’t.” He gathered in everyone’s attention. “Let us discuss the situation in Tortall. I refer to the interesting rumor that my reign is cursed and that I will be unseated from the throne.”

“As it stands, there is no ‘situation,’” growled the Provost. He ran his fingers through his hair in vexation as he explained. “It’s all rumor and whispers. There are no plots afoot, none that I can find. Except that Ralon of Malven is loose, and he’s still got followers. When I get my hands on him, he’ll give me their names.” He closed his black-gloved hands with a predator’s grin.

“And Duke Roger?” asked Duke Baird.

“Innocent as a bird,” said Gary with disgust. “His every movement can be accounted for. He either studies manuscripts and scrolls with Master Lord Thom or he’s in plain view of the court.”

“Does anyone watch Alex of Tirragen?” Alanna wanted to know. “He was Roger’s squire.”

The Provost, Raoul, and Gary exchanged glances. “Alex we don’t know about,” Gary admitted. “He locks himself for hours in his palace rooms—”

“He’s in one of the old wings, where the floor plans’ve been lost,” the Provost explained. “It’s possible there’s passages in and out of there we know little of. But we’ve no proof, of course. Unless his Majesty gives us a King’s Writ, we cannot search Sir Alexander’s rooms without evidence of wrongdoin’.”

“I won’t give such a writ,” Jon said. “If I give one now, with only rumor and imagination to support it, I’ll issue the next one more easily. If I wantonly break into any of Alex’s homes, even the one he keeps in my own palace, what is to stop me from breaking into yours? Of all my subjects, I am the one least able to break the law.”

“Let’s see what the news of the Jewel does over the next few weeks,” Myles suggested. “Send out messengers, until even the children know we have it. Perhaps knowing it’s in his Majesty’s possession will give people confidence in his reign.”

“And we’ll stay vigilant,” Gary promised. “I’d hate to learn, sixty days from now, that there is fire under all this smoke.”

They went on to other topics. It was noon by the time the meeting drew to a close. Jonathan signaled Alanna to remain behind while he showed the others out. She obeyed, still considering all she’d heard since meeting Raoul in Port Udayapur.

Jonathan closed the door after Gary and came back to Alanna at the table. “Please don’t feel that being Champion traps you in some way,” he said, somewhat concerned. “We’re far past the era when a Champion had to defend the king’s law with his sword. I imagine you’ll have all the time in the world to continue roaming.”

Alanna smiled at him. “That’s good. It’s not that I don’t like being at home. I just know there are places I haven’t seen. I’ll always be here when you need me, though.”

“That’s a comfort.” An awkward silence descended until she asked, abruptly, “Are you still courting that princess I heard about—Josiane? The one I met last night?”

Jonathan blushed and shook his head. “She likes being a princess too much. And she’s cruel. She hides it well, but she is.” He fiddled with the papers in front of him. “Are you jealous?” he asked sharply. “I noticed you didn’t waste time finding somebody to replace me. Two somebodies, if you count George and Liam Ironarm.”

It was Alanna’s turn to blush. “I’m not jealous,” she said at last. “I just thought you had better taste.”

Jonathan stared at the table. “My offer of marriage stands, if you want.”

She looked at him. Part of her wanted to say “yes,” but it was a very small part. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Jon, but we’re very different people these days. I didn’t realize how different until this council meeting.”

“It’s funny,” he replied, thinking. “I look at you and realize you’ve been to places I’ll never visit.” He smiled regretfully. “You turned into a hero when I wasn’t watching.”

“Don’t say that. I’m still me.” Alanna walked over to sit on the table in front of him. She took his hand, and feeling more at ease, she tickled his palm. “Jon, if we were married we’d make a mess of things. You know it as well as I do.”

Now he did look at her. “I don’t want to go back on my word,” he explained. His eyes gave his other feelings away. “I asked for your hand—”

His obvious relief hurt, but it didn’t keep her from knowing she did the right thing. “And I said no. Thank you, but no. I love you, Jon. We’ve been through a lot. But what we want from life—” She pointed to his papers. “You like this king business. I like action. I like to say what I think.” She saw a rough sketch half hidden by other documents and pulled it free.

“Don’t, you—” Jon started to say, but he was too late.

Alanna waved the drawing of Thayet in front of him, grinning wickedly. “You still want to marry me, Sire? Or were you just checking to see if the road is clear?”

Jonathan was beet red with embarrassment. “Don’t tease. You know I’d marry you if you said ‘yes.’”

“Then thank the gods one of us has sense.” She examined the drawing closely. “Your artwork’s improved. The one you did of Delia made her look like a cow.” Pursing her lips, she added thoughtfully, “Though now that I think of it, maybe that was your subject matter—”

Jon laughed so hard tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. When he regained his self-control, he said, “I need you home, if only because you make me laugh.”

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” she said dryly as she gave him the sketch.

Jonathan caught her hand, his eyes serious. “I love you, too, Alanna. You’re a part of me—my sword arm.”

She kissed his forehead. “Fine. I like that. But you need a queen, too. Thayet would be a good one.”

“Are you sure?” he wanted to know. “Are you positive we couldn’t make a good marriage?” She returned his look, equally serious, and he sighed. “You’re right. Still, it would have been interesting.”

Her head spinning from the events of the last three days, Alanna went to earth. She was all but invisible at palace social functions. Jonathan, knowing that she needed time to think, left her alone. Instead he asked for Thayet when he called at House Olau, taking her for rides or to the palace. He invited Buri on these excursions, guessing—accurately—that the little K’mir would prefer several deaths to making polite conversation with noblemen. Thayet could make no threat that would cause Buri to act as a chaperone at such times. Instead the princess’s companion joined Alanna as she refamiliarized herself with Corus and the palace grounds.

Alanna introduced her to the remnants of George’s court and to her friends among the palace hostlers and servants. They joined Liam in extended hours of exercise and sparring. George took them on picnics beside the river and on explorations of the city’s catacombs. Buri learned how to pick pockets, and Alanna relaxed in the thief’s company. The pair found themselves drilling the city’s urchins, boy and girl, in staff- and sword-play, and running races with local youths. Alanna brought Buri into the morning practice sessions in the palace, where the K’mir met Raoul, Gary, and the other knights and squires. Many of these young noblemen, particularly those who didn’t know Alanna well, were unsure of what to make of two females—one an unproven stranger—joining their practice. Their attitudes soon changed to respect for Buri and awe for Alanna.

Because the body concerned was hers, Alanna didn’t know how much she’d improved under Liam’s teaching. If she beat her old friends, which she often did, she decided they had been riding chairs too much recently. Alex never challenged her, George could still best her with knives, and Liam always won.

“It keeps me humble,” she told Coram with chagrin after one session with Liam. Coram laughed and ruffled her hair.

She watched Duke Roger. He was often present when she visited Thom. These glimpses were enough to confirm her feeling that she trusted him less than ever. She relayed her suspicions to everyone who mattered; there could never be too many eyes on the Duke. Still, he continued to act conspicuously innocent. Instead of easing her fears, such behavior only increased them.

The days slipped away. She was fitted for dresses, which she wore during quiet evenings with her family and on leisure excursions with George or her friends at court. Summer began with the June festival of Beltane. Since this was the time of year men approached their chosen ladies (the excuse being the custom of leaping over fires hand-in-hand to ensure a bountiful harvest), she looked for George to renew his courtship. Certainly he’d had time to see that she no more belonged to Liam than to the moon! George, however, remained simply friendly; after his enthusiastic greeting on her return, he showed no other signs of warmer feelings.

“I’m doomed to be an old maid,” she told Faithful mournfully, surveying her image in a looking-glass the morning of the festival.

There was a time when you wanted to be a spinster, he reminded her as he washed his glossy fur. A warrior maiden, with no one to tie her down—

“Oh, shut up,” she said crossly. “Must I have everything I said as a girl thrown back in my face?”

You seemed positive, the cat taunted her wickedly.

A serving girl peered in. “Excuse me, your ladyship, but the king says, if you’re awake, will you come down? He’s in his lordship’s library.”

Alanna tugged on one of the new gowns, listening with enjoyment to the rustle of lilac silk as she tugged a brush through her waving hair. She put on slippers as she went downstairs, nearly killing herself by hopping first on one foot, then the other. While she knew Jon rose quite early, it was rare for him to leave the palace at this hour: He must have an important errand.

“Hello,” he greeted her as she rushed into the library. “That’s a pretty dress. Are you wearing it for anyone in particular?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “Myself.”

“Ouch. You should be nicer to your king, my Champion.”

“No I shouldn’t,” retorted Alanna. “Duke Gareth says the Champion must always be honest, even when others lack the courage.”

Jon smiled ruefully. “Lacking the courage to speak out has never been one of your problems, I admit.”

She looked him over with some concern. “Are you taking proper care of yourself—eating right, getting your sleep? It won’t do for you to fall ill for your own coronation.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve been up late the last week or so, working with the Jewel.”

“How is that going?”

Jonathan smiled. “Very well. Thom has been a great help, finding spells and writing new ones for the Jewel. Its power can be limitless, if you know how to use it.” He sighed. “That’s a temptation I’ll always have to fight. The minute I start relying on the Jewel to rule is the minute I court disaster. There’s no substitute for a human touch.”

“Do you always think like this?” she wanted to know. “Or do you rest sometimes and think about ordinary things with the rest of us?” She couldn’t tell him that she was in awe of him when he spoke of such things. If ever a man was born to be king, it’s Jon, she thought.

“Of course I do,” he replied tartly. “There are plenty of ordinary things for me to think about—the future, and love, and—” He stopped, turning red.

“How are things with you and Thayet?” Alanna inquired, interested.

Jonathan scrubbed his face with his hands. “Baffling.” He sighed. “I don’t know if she goes riding with me to be polite, or because she likes my company—”

“Good,” his Champion said. “You’re too sure of yourself with women. It won’t hurt for you to have to struggle a little.”

Jon picked up Faithful and smoothed the cat’s fur. “Thank you, dearest Alanna. I knew I could depend on you to salve my wounded pride.”

“You always take care of your own pride,” she reminded him. “You’ve never needed me for that. By the way, what do you need me for this morning? Or are you here for the conversation?”

He shook his head. “I’m here for a talk with George—who is late. I thought your presence might smooth things.”

“You aren’t angry with George, are you?” she asked, concerned.

“Quite the opposite.”

The subject of their conversation strolled in, mussed and sweat-streaked. “Sorry I’m late,” he told Jonathan, collapsing into a big armchair. “I had a bit of a scuffle with some hotheads. Nothing serious, but it delayed me.” Alanna poured George a cup of the fruit juice left on Myles’s desk by the servants. He accepted it with a murmured word of thanks, and drained it. She poured him another, checking him for wounds from beneath lowered lashes.

He still knew what she was doing. “I’m all in one piece, lass,” he grinned. “Never tell me you were worried.”

Alanna scowled, prodded by his mocking tone. “I wasn’t,” she retorted.

George winked at her. “That’s my girl!”

Jonathan opened a manuscript case that lay on the desk before him and drew out two scrolls, both adorned with heavy seals and tied up with royal blue ribbons. “Enough squabbling, you two.” He passed the first to George. Alanna noted the flowing writing was a court scribe’s and not Jonathan’s precise hand.

George read for only a moment before he stood and tossed the parchment on the desk. His mouth was tight with anger, his face white. “A royal pardon! What d’you take me for, Majesty?” His big hands were clenched. “You’ve had fun with the lowborn, and now you’ll throw me a bauble as a reward? I want no charity, Jonathan!”

Alanna forced herself to sit, gritting her teeth. She could not interfere.

Jonathan refused to be provoked. “I’m not charitable,” he said coolly. “My father was. Now the results of … certain of his charities threaten this kingdom. I wish he had been more just and less kind.”

He leaned back. “You were the best teacher I had. Must I list what you made me learn? The reaches of men’s trickery. Making even those who mistrust me follow where I lead. The extent of human greed. The things that can’t be bought. The need for ruthlessness. The ability to recognize—and trust—loyalty.” Jon smiled grimly. “I’ve often wondered—would I have survived the Ordeal of the Voice, if you hadn’t taken me under your wing?”

He tapped the pardon. “‘The teacher earns his wage,’” he quoted. “But it’s more than that. This is to prevent the day when I have to sign a writ for your execution.”

George went to the bookshelves, staring at them. “You needn’t go so far. I’ve lost my taste for the Rogue. I’ll leave Tortall, settle elsewhere.”

When Alanna would have started forward, Jon gripped her arm, keeping her beside him. “Must you desert me when I need you?” he asked the thief. “Never again will I have any freedom. And our hero is easily recognized, which limits her movements.” He smiled at Alanna and let her go. She stayed where she was, tense.

Jon continued, “I need someone unusual to serve as my confidential agent. I’d trust such an agent implicitly. He must be clever and unorthodox, someone who could venture among all classes without trouble.”

George looked at Jon, his face unreadable. “What’s t’other writ, then?”

“A grant of nobility and the title of baron. The deeds go to the lands and incomes traditionally belonging to the lord of Pirate’s Swoop, a day’s ride south of Port Caynn.”

“I know where the Swoop is,” George snapped. “Why? Why must you go and make me respectable?”

“A confidential agent needs a home and income,” was the simple reply. “His comings and goings, particularly at court, cannot be remarked upon, which means he must be a noble.”

“I want to travel, Jon. Before I’m old and know nothin’ but the Rogue.”

Jonathan smiled dryly. “Is life here so dull that you two think of nothing but roaming? Never mind. I need you to travel. I have to know what’s outside my borders, too.” He let George think for a few moments before adding softly, “I can’t do this alone. Say you will.” Both Alanna and George heard the real pleading in his voice when he added, “Please.”

George picked up the pardon, re-reading it. He tapped a large seal in silvery wax. “How in Mithros’s name did you get my Lord Provost to sign?”

“You’d be surprised. He’s an amazing fellow.” Jonathan’s tone was filled with wry respect, making Alanna wonder just what the Provost had done to put that feeling in his voice.

George sighed, rolling the parchment up. “With so many good reasons for me to accept, I’d be touched in my wits to refuse.” With a lopsided grin he told Alanna, “He’s grown up with a vengeance. I wonder if I shall be glad or sorry.”

Alanna rode to the palace that evening as the sun set against the Coastal Hills, paying her daily visit to Thom. When she left him, as always, she was troubled and uneasy. He looked no better than he had when she first returned to Corus. If anything, he looked worse, and she was frightened. She’d also noticed that Faithful stayed away from Thom, and that Thom deliberately avoided the cat. To her there was no better sign of something dangerously wrong; but when she questioned Faithful, he refused to answer.

Instead of riding home or seeking out her friends, she and Faithful wandered idly through the maze of the palace, thinking about the coronation. It was hard to believe only three weeks remained.

Their walk finally brought knight and cat to the Hall of Crowns. This room had one use: Tortallan sovereigns were consecrated to the realm there. At all other times it was closed, its windows covered by heavy velvet curtains.

They entered, smelling beeswax, spices, and incense. The servants had worked hard, cleaning the dust-covered draperies, polishing wood- and metalwork until it shone, scrubbing the many-paned windows. Tiny votive candles winked on the altar, where a Mithran priest and a Daughter of the Goddess would bind Jonathan to the crown and the land.

Her steps echoed to the ceiling as she walked around. Here were the wooden benches where the nobility sat. She climbed the stone risers that would seat the principal merchants, guildmasters, and their families until she reached the top. Here were the City Doors, the height of five men and the breadth of seven. These would be open during the coronation. All who could fit in behind the wealthy and powerful commoners would do so, relaying what happened inside to the less fortunate.

Once crowned, Jonathan would mount Darkness at the City Doors to ride down to his new capital. Alanna would stay a pace behind as he rode through the packed streets.

Thank the Goddess Moonlight isn’t some skittish yearling and hard to control in a crowd, she reflected. Still, I can think of things I’d rather be doing that day.

She sat on a riser, almost on top of Faithful. “Oh, stop it,” she muttered when he yowled. “You aren’t hurt.” Propping elbows on knees, she put her chin on her hands, staring at the distant altar. “I’m getting old,” she whispered. “I should be excited about the coronation. I wish I knew for certain he’d be safe.”

You wanted to be a hero, Faithful said. Heroes have responsibilities.

“I’m not sure I want to be a hero anymore,” Alanna sighed.

Then you are in trouble. That’s the one thing you’ll never be able to change.

“I know. I think about marrying, though, if I could do it and still see the world. It wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Not if it was someone I liked and loved. Someone I could laugh with.”

You want to be warrior and woman. You want to travel and serve Jonathan. Can’t you make up your mind about what you want? complained the cat.

“Who says I can’t have a little bit of each?” she wanted to know. When she realized what she’d said, she began to grin. “That’s right—why can’t I? And I’ve done pretty well, I think!”

I suppose so, he replied grudgingly. For a person. Mind, be careful in your choices—particularly if you want to marry. You need somebody who isn’t as noble-minded as you are. Otherwise you take yourself much too seriously. I won’t always be around to correct you.

“I am not noble-minded!”

Yes you are. You hide it well, but not everyone knows you like I do. And you think you can solve all the world’s ills. You need someone who will cheer you up when you can’t.

Abruptly Alanna sneezed four times without stopping. She got to her feet, blinking teary eyes. Something took form before the altar, something with substance enough to obscure the votive candles. It was the Goddess, her white skin and emerald eyes gleaming in the dark. Impossibly tall, she smiled at Alanna. Of course she’s here, Alanna thought, awed. It’s Beltane. Every couple tonight will ask her blessing on the summer crops. Then why has she come here? I’m alone, without a lover, and I’m more worried about the coronation than the crops.

The gentle whisper nonetheless drove Alanna to her knees. It took all her willpower to keep her hands from her ears: That voice still embodied huntress and hounds and the storm. In the Hall of Crowns even the Goddess’s whisper rolled like thunder. “We meet again, my daughter. You have traveled a long road since last we spoke. Surely you must be pleased, now. Your labors of all these years, here and in the Roof of the World, bear fruit. Your Jonathan is to be king. He will bear the Dominion Jewel.”

Alanna looked up eagerly. “Then he will be king? Please—can you give me a sign, some hint of what is to come? I sense trouble, but … and my brother. What’s wrong with Thom?”

The Goddess shook her head. “I may not answer these questions. The gods cannot reveal all things; otherwise, where is men’s right to choose their fates? Where is your right to choose?”

“I think I chose well,” Alanna said, getting to her feet. “How can I thank you for your favor?”

“Your life is my thanks. I have guided you as best I can, but the time for guidance is past. You are fully grown into all your powers, Alanna. The days to come are what you make of them. The coronation is a crossroad in Time. Bend it to your will—if you have the courage!”

Alanna’s blood thrilled to the challenge, but her common sense made her beg, “Just a hint?”

The Goddess shook her head, smiling with amusement. The air brightened. Alanna could see other figures before the altar. The shining warrior could only be Mithros, the divine protector. On the Goddess’s other side, hooded and cloaked, waited her brother the Black God. Alanna knew him and bowed her greetings; the great head nodded in reply.

Behind them were ranged others, only some of whom she knew: the Crooked God, his smile as wicked as George’s own; the Smith’s God; the Sea Goddess. The array of immortals stretched on and on, but somehow she saw each face clearly. Awed and frightened, she covered her eyes like a Doi tribesman.

Slowly the glory faded. When she uncovered her eyes, she and Faithful were alone. She stayed where she was for a while, remembering what she had seen. At last she shook her head. “Ask a silly question.”

It always comes to this, Faithful remarked. A god can guide a mortal, nurture, teach. And yet there comes a moment when the god must stand away from the fosterling and let the inevitable happen.

“Why?” she asked, curious.

That’s how the universe is fashioned, Faithful replied. There are moments when only a human can affect the outcome of events.

She picked him up, letting him perch under her left ear. “You mean they don’t know what’s going to happen?”

People like you are the fulcrums on which the future turns. He gave her ear a nuzzle. Don’t mess it up. I have a reputation to maintain.

Leaving the Hall of Crowns, she was surprised to come face-to-face with Delia of Eldorne and Princess Josiane. Both wore plain dark gowns and veils over their hair. Plainly they were as surprised as she was.

Delia recovered quickly. “Well, if it isn’t ‘Sir’ Alanna,” she sneered, her green eyes glinting. “The Woman Who Rides Like a Man!”

Taking her cue from Delia’s words, Alanna bowed as a man would. “Princess Josiane. Lady Delia.”

“I used to have to dance with her when she posed as a he,” Delia told the tall blonde. “I sensed something was not right.”

“Funny,” Alanna said thoughtfully, “as I recall, you chased me. You made a point of flirting with me, because the men said I was a woman-hater, and you wanted to make me fall in love with you.”

“Liar!” Delia hissed.

Alanna shrugged. “As you like. I was taught not to question a lady’s word.”

“I’m told you were Jonathan’s lover once,” Josiane said abruptly, veiling her blue eyes with her lashes. “Is that why he made you Champion?”

Surprised by the attack from this unknown source, Alanna took a step back. She clenched her hands, her nails biting into newly formed scars, as she controlled her temper. “I’m told you replaced me in his affections—for a little while,” she replied sweetly. “Why didn’t he make you Prime Minister?”

Josiane’s beautiful face changed into an ugly mask. “No one gets the better of me,” she hissed.

“Did you plan to be King’s Champion?” Alanna wanted to know. “You don’t have the training.”

Delia gripped Josiane’s arm; Alanna could see her blood-red nails digging into the princess’s flesh. “I don’t waste time in conversations with sluts, Josiane,” she snapped. “Neither should you.” She literally dragged the princess away, quite a feat in so delicate-looking a woman.

“She could do harm,” Alanna told Liam and Myles later that night as they sat over brandy. Outside they could hear the sounds of the Beltane festival. “I’m no expert, but that Josiane is crazy!”

“There’s bad blood in the Copper Isle kings,” Liam drawled, his eyes sleepy. “They birth a mad one every generation. Josiane’s uncle is locked in a tower somewhere. It comes from being an island kingdom—too much inbreeding.”

“I think it might be a good idea if the Provost’s spies kept an eye on her,” Alanna said frankly. “I don’t trust her.”

“He has her watched,” Myles said reassuringly. “Any foreign noble is suspect at a time like this.”

Alanna fidgeted in her chair. “I wish the coronation was over. The waiting is getting on my nerves.”

“Once he’s sealed to the crown and the land, he’ll be hard to dislodge.” Liam yawned. “And if the Jewel’s all it’s supposed to be, so much the better.”

“In the meantime, we still can find no traces of a plot or plotters.” Myles sighed. “With people starting to arrive for the ceremonies, it will be hard to spot fighters coming to take part in an overthrow.”

“George and I ride through the city every day,” Liam said unexpectedly. “The Lord Provost and Duke Gareth, too. Between the four of us, any group of warriors will be easy to spot. The Provost’s men stand alert as well.” He noticed Alanna staring at him and grinned. “Did you think you could leave me out of your worries? I’m still your friend. I won’t sit idling when there’s a hint of a fight in the offing.”

Alanna smiled gratefully at the Dragon. “It is a weight off my mind, knowing you’re keeping an eye on things, too.”

George glanced into the library. “Ah, here you all are. Myles, I’ve another visitor to cast upon your tender mercies.” He bowed gracefully, ushering the guest into the room.

“Master Si-cham!” Alanna cried, jumping up. The tiny old man in the orange worn by Mithran adepts smiled and held out gnarled hands for her to kiss.

“And Liam Ironarm,” he said, nodding cheerfully to the bowing Dragon. “What a pair of warriors to grace your house, Myles!”

Alanna looked from Si-cham to Liam to her father, baffled. “You know Liam?” she asked. The redheaded man winked at her. “You know Myles?”

“I traveled more when I was younger,” Myles explained. “Si-cham, have a seat. George, thank you for bringing him. Where was he?”

“Cornered near the Water Gate by a set of young louts. The drunken fools wanted him t’dance for the Goddess,” George said, pouring tea for the Mithran priest. “There’s no respect for old men anymore.”

“I’ve danced for the Goddess in my day,” Si-cham admitted with a grin. “Not after such a journey, though.” He drank his tea. “I’m sorry to be so long in answering your summons, George Cooper. I had a thousand loose ends to tie up in the City of the Gods once they realized I was truly going. Also, I do not cover so much ground as I did when I was young. I had to be carried in a litter—a sad comedown for me, when I rode so well.”

“But why are you here?” Alanna wanted to know.

Si-cham put down his glass, his face tired. “George tells me your brother is ill—desperately so, perhaps. He asked me to come to Master Thom’s aid.”

“Now all we have to do is convince Thom he needs it,” admitted George.

At first Thom refused to consider talking to his former master. His rage on learning why Si-cham was in the city scared Alanna, not so much because she feared his temper, but because she heard despair and fear in Thom’s voice as he screamed at her. This made her determined that Si-cham should meet with her twin. Thom resembled a skeleton now; his skin was dry and cracked with the heat that ate at him from within.

A week before the coronation Thom gave in. Even Roger was banned from their meeting, a ban he accepted gracefully. When Thom and Si-cham instructed the palace servants to bring their meals to Thom’s rooms, Alanna gave up waiting for word. They would send for her when they needed her.

She had a number of mundane tasks that needed to be taken care of in the days remaining. Visiting the palace scribes, she had a new will drawn up: The last had been done prior to her Ordeal. They were disturbed to see such a document when death should be the last thing on her mind, but she could not shake uneasy feelings about the coronation. She wanted nothing left to chance, just in case. She took her mail to be polished and her sword to be sharpened. While neither her gold mail nor Lightning required the extra attention, she felt better for having it done. When the hairdresser came to style Eleni’s hair for a court party, Alanna asked him to cut her hair as well. Everyone but George and Buri cried out when they saw her. The coppery locks that had fallen past her shoulders were trimmed back to her ear lobes in the short cut she’d worn as a page. She shrugged at the protests. “I couldn’t keep it out of my eyes,” she explained.

Finally one of the palace servants came to House Olau, four days after Thom and Si-cham had cloistered themselves, to ask Alanna to visit her brother. She did so, wondering what delightful surprise the sorcerers had ready for her.

Thom was pacing when she arrived. Alanna dropped into a chair with a grateful sigh. “It’s baking outside.” About as much as you’re baking inside, she added to herself, noting that his skin was peeling and his lips bled.

Thom looked at her quizzically. “Tell me, Sister Mine, when is your Dragon going to make an honest woman of you?”

She made a face at him, thinking he had to feel a little better if he was nosing into her affairs. “He isn’t. We were done before I came home. He doesn’t like magic.”

“Silly man. What about Jonathan, then? Everyone knows you two used to be lovers, even if he is a prig about other things. Maybe I should talk to him. Having sullied your reputation, he can’t be allowed to abandon you. You have a good name—”

“I’m not amused, Thom.”

“I think you should take the thief, if you must take someone. If you marry George, I’ll give you my blessing.”

“If I marry anyone, I’ll let you know. Can you change the subject?” She shifted in the big chair, hooking her legs over one arm. “I love you dearly, Thom, but you’re prying, and I don’t appreciate it.”

He grinned. “What sort of twin would I be if I didn’t pry?” That made her smile. Sitting on the edge of his desk, he tugged his beard as he looked her over. “It’s changed you—the Jewel. Time was you’d’ve lost your temper with me for calling him a ‘prig’ or teasing you about the Dragon. You only save your anger now for big things, is that it?”

“Thom, do you mind?” she snapped. “I didn’t come here to be analyzed by my own twin, thank you very much!”

He looked away. “Sorry,” he murmured shyly. “I forgot how much I dislike it. And you have changed. For the better, I think.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, touched by the rare compliment.

There was a rap on the door; it opened to admit Si-cham. “There you are, Lady Alanna. Now we may begin.”

Alanna looked at Thom, feeling the first pricklings of mistrust. “Begin what?” she wanted to know.

“We’ve been going over the books in Jonathan’s sorcery library,” Thom explained. “And we found some possibilities. For now, I want to drain off a little of the power that burdens me. Without it, I can think clearly. Because you’re my twin, you’re the best person to carry it.”

“Wait a minute—” Alanna began, rising out of her chair. “What if it poisons me like you’ve been poisoned? Even a beginning hedgewitch knows you can carry your own Gift and no more!”

“That would be true, if we spoke of weeks or months or years. This transfer is for a week. Our spells will enclose it, keep it from leaking into your Gift,” Si-cham reassured her. “We are sure of it.” He met Alanna’s eyes, smiling.

Alanna stared at the sorcerers for a long moment. “A week?”

“No more,” Thom said. “The most important of the infusions I need takes that long to make.”

Alanna bit her lip. He was so thin! “It’ll help? It won’t interfere with my participation in the coronation?”

“It will help,” Si-cham affirmed. “It will not interfere. You won’t even notice it after the first night, unless you try to use your Gift, of course. I would not advise it.”

She sat down with an exhausted sigh. “What must I do?”

Alanna kept to House Olau for the next few days while her head buzzed and her stomach lurched. Grimly she continued her exercises with Liam in spite of it, fearing to slack off for even a day. At last her body adjusted to the new burden. But she refused to do so tiny a spell as the one for lighting candles, fearful of what might happen. Visiting Thom once more, she was glad she’d given in—he looked better already. Together with Si-cham, he had embarked on the beginnings of an intricate spell. It would be finished several days after the coronation, and—if Thom was lucky—it would purify his magic.

Three days before the coronation, Jonathan summoned Alanna to the palace to discuss how the Jewel would fit into the ceremonies. “It seems like a silly thing to worry about,” he admitted with a smile, “but the Master of Protocol wouldn’t let me alone until I agreed to do it his way. You see, I can’t take it up when I’m crowned, or when I get the scepter and the Great Seal. Those are all Tortallan things, and the Jewel isn’t Tortallan.”

Alanna had to laugh. “Poor Jon! Maybe I should’ve given it to you for your birthday, or something.”

The king-to-be grimaced. “Very funny. Here’s how we will do it. When you come to give me your oath as King’s Champion, say this.”

He gave her a parchment on which her oath was written. It read very like the one she’d taken as a knight. At the end, in scarlet ink, were lines, which she read aloud. “‘Sire, as token of my fealty, I gift you and your heirs with this most awesome artifact—’ Jon, do I really have to say ‘awesome artifact’?” Jonathan nodded, not bothering to hide his amusement. “Wonderful,” Alanna muttered as she read further. “‘For which I have gone in quest to the most distant corner of our world. Through peril I have borne it, for the glory of Tortall, and for the glory of King Jonathan. Accept, I beg, this symbol of my devotion to realm and crown, the Dominion Jewel.’ Jon, this is some kind of a joke!”

Jon shook his head. “Wait till you hear what I have to say in reply. I’d better go—the delegation from Tyra is waiting for me. Don’t forget to memorize your lines!” With an evil grin he left Alanna to scowl at her revised oath.

She shoved it into her pocket. “I guess I’m too old to put a frog in his bed,” she muttered as she headed for the stables. “‘Awesome artifact,’ indeed!”