Magic Casement

1

The worst moment of that whole terrible day was Inos’s first glimpse of her father, the sight of the poor withered relic that was all remaining of the exuberant, vital man she remembered. Compared to that, nothing before or after was as bad—none of the murder or horror or sorcery that followed, not even the news of his death, for that was a release.

Of the morning she was to retain only confused images, a few fitful glimpses and recollections. She had left Krasnegar in summer drizzle, sitting in a landau with her father and Aunt Kade, cheered more or less sincerely by amused but affectionate townsfolk. She returned on a blustery spring morn, in sunshine mingled with flurries of snow, riding with Andor on one side of her and the despicable Proconsul Yggingi on the other. Now the citizens huddled in their furs to watch, or peered around shutters, their faces reflecting shock and anger at an invading Imperial army desecrating their streets.

The palace staff and the officers of the realm had been hurriedly assembled in the great hall that now seemed like a shoddy barracks to Inos. They, also, glared in impotent fury. Their greetings were curt, their welcomes insincere. Familiar faces bore unfamiliar expressions—old Chancellor Yaltauri and the much older Seneschal Kondoral, Mother Unonini and Bishop Havyili, and the tall, stark figure of Factor Foronod, his livid face almost as pale as the silver helmet of his hair.

How small Krasnegar was, how bleak, how shabby after Kinvale! The palace was a barn. And when she was ushered politely up into the withdrawing room she looked around at the gilt and rosewood furniture that Aunt Kade had brought back—three years ago now—and it seemed pathetic, a bitter mockery of what comfort and elegance ought to be. Yet it had not changed and she hated herself because it was she who had changed.

The way she spoke to them, the way she moved, the way she returned their looks—she had gone, but she had not returned. She never would return. The place was the same place. She was another person.

Then the doctors, bowing and mumbling and making excuses. His Majesty was conscious and had been informed—

It was at that moment that Inos issued her first command.

“I shall see him alone!” she stated, and she silenced their protests with the best glare she could muster. Even Andor. Even the hated Yggingi. Even Aunt Kade.

Astonishingly, it worked. They all agreed and no one was more surprised than Inos herself.

She climbed the familiar curving stairs alone, noting with surprise that the treads were dished by centuries of footsteps, noting how narrow the way was, and how the very stonework of the walls was glazed by the caress of innumerable garments. Kinvale had all been so new. She came to the dressing room and remembered it as it had been in her childhood, with her own bed against the northwest wall, although now there was an ancient wardrobe standing there. Nurses and doctors came trooping out the far door and bobbed politely to her and hurried across the room and off down the stair behind. And when the last of them had gone, she pushed unwilling feet to the steps and began to climb once more.

The drapes of the bed had been pulled back, the room was bright with transitory sunshine, and at first she thought there had been some terrible mistake, some macabre joke, for the bed looked empty. Then she came near and… and smiled.

She sat by him for many hours, holding his hand, making conversation when he was capable of it, else just waiting until he awoke again or the spasm of pain had passed. His mind wandered much of the time. Often he mistook her for her mother.

Aunt Kade came at intervals, tiptoeing and doleful. She spoke to him, and sometimes he knew her. Then she would ask if Inos wanted anything, and slip quietly away again. Poor Aunt Kade! Weeks on horseback… she had ridden all through the wastelands, bravely insisting that this was the greatest adventure of her life, not to be missed. It had not done a damned thing for her figure. She was just as dumpy as ever, and today she looked old.

The lucid moments were at once the best and the worst.

“Well, Princess?” he asked in his whisper. “Did you find that handsome man?”

“I think so, Father. But we have made no promises.”

“Be sure,” he said, and squeezed her hand. Then he began to mumble about repairs to the bandshell, which had been torn down before she was born.

Her mother’s portrait had been cleaned and moved to one side. Alongside it hung Jalon’s pastel sketch. It made her look absurdly young, a mere child.

Her father asked about Kinvale and seemed to understand some of what she said. He talked of people long dead and troubles long since solved. When pain struck and she offered to call the doctors, he refused. “No more of that,” he said.

Much later, after a long quietness, he suddenly opened his eyes very wide. She thought it was another pain, but it seemed more as if he had remembered something. “Do you want it?” he demanded, staring at her.

“Want what, Father?”

“The kingdom,” he said. “Do you want to stay and be queen? Or would you rather live in a kinder land? Now you must choose. So soon!”

“I think I have a duty,” she replied. “I should not be happy evading a duty.” He would approve of that, although she could not quite suppress her own resentment. Why must she be so bound, when ordinary people were not? She had never asked to be a princess.

He gripped her hand tightly in pain. “You have grown up!”

She nodded and said she thought so.

“Then you will try?” he asked. “You can do it, I think.” His eyes roamed restlessly around the room. “Are we alone?”

She assured him that they were alone.

“Come close, then,” he said softly. She bent over him and he whispered some nonsensical thing in her ear. She jerked up in surprise, for she had thought he was clear-minded. He smiled up at her weakly, as if that had been an effort. “From Inisso.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Ask Sagorn,” he muttered. “You can trust Sagorn. Maybe Thinal, sometimes, but not the others. None of the others.”

She thought that statement a harsh verdict on all the faithful servants and officials who had served Holindarn all their lives—if that was who he meant. And who was Thinal? He was rambling. But Sagorn? Andor had said that Sagorn had returned after she had left, but she had seen no sign of him.

Her father winced suddenly, but then he said, “Call the council.”

“Later,” she said. “Rest now.”

He shook his head insistently on the pillow. “I must tell them.”

Just then Aunt Kade made one of her visits, and Inos told her to call the council. Doubtfully she went off to do so. In a short while they all trooped in, the bishop and Yaltauri and half a dozen others. But by then the king was mumbling about grain ships and white horses; the council withdrew.

After that, he seemed to sink rapidly. The silences grew longer, broken only by the hiss of the peat in the fireplace and a periodic cry of wind through the leaky west window. She recalled how that plaintive wail had frightened her when she was a child, and how that casement had always defied repair. Once or twice she thought she heard a faint creak from the ceiling, but she dismissed it as imagination. On Aunt Kade’s next visit, Inos asked her to send a doctor, and thereafter she allowed the man to stay.

You can do it, he had said. Sitting by the bed as the long day passed, as the moments of consciousness became shorter and rarer, she felt a strange determination emerging, like a rock uncovered by the ebbing tide.

For him, she would try.

She would show them! And that thought seemed to give her strength she had not suspected she had. She waited, she endured, and she shed no tears.

The shadows moved. The day faded. Flames were set in the sconces. Finally, after the sun had set, when there had been a long time with no movement from her father beyond the shallow rise and fall of his chest, the doctor came and laid a hand on her shoulder, and she knew it was time to go. So she kissed the wizened yellow face and walked away. She went slowly downstairs, crossed the dressing room, down another flight, and paused in the door of the withdrawing room to look, and consider.

2

The council was gathered there, and some others, all waiting around in lamplight, for the windows were quite dark now. No one had yet noticed Inos in the doorway. Queens had no time for personal grief—she must look to her inheritance. She had discussed the problem often enough with Kade on the journey, and with Andor. Would Krasnegar accept a queen? A juvenile queen? The imps likely would, they had decided, but the jotnar were doubtful. Now her father had given her his realm, but he had not told his council; that might not matter very much, anyway, for the next move would be made by the hateful Yggingi, whose army held the kingdom. What would his terms be? Would she be forced to swear allegiance to his Imperial Majesty Emshandar IV?

So they were sitting or standing there, waiting as they must have waited all day, talking quietly; and the center of the group was Andor, slim and graceful in dark green, tall for an imp. He was the key to the kingdom, she thought. If she was to marry Andor, the council would accept him as her consort. He was young and handsome and personable and competent. Even Foronod seemed to be engrossed, smiling now with the others at some tale that would likely have made them all laugh aloud in a happier time. If Andor was the key, then Foronod was the lock, for he was a jotunn and probably the most influential. If the factor would accept Andor as king, then likely they all would. Except perhaps Yggingi.

Andor would not have returned with her had he not cared.

Then she was noticed. They turned to await her in sympathetic silence. Mother Unonini was there, black-robed and bleak-faced as always. Aunt Kade in silver and pink had been sitting at the bottom of the stairs like a watchdog. Bless her!

She hugged Aunt Kade and was hugged by the chaplain, smelling of fish. She wondered how she could ever have been frightened by this dyspeptic little cleric with her resentful air of failure and bitter exile.

One by one the men bowed, and she nodded solemnly in return: Foronod, grim, lank in a dark-blue gown, winter pale, with his white-gold jotunnish hair glowing against the outer dark of a window; old Chancellor Yaltauri, a typical imp, short and swarthy, normally a jovial but bookish man; the much older Seneschal Kondoral, openly weeping; the vague and ineffectual Bishop Havyili; the others.

“It will not be long,” she told them.

Mother Unonini turned and headed for the stairs.

“You must eat now, dear.” Kade led her to a table that had been laid out with white linen and silver and fine china, like a small oasis of Kinvale in the barren arctic, but bearing cakes and pastries that looked cumbersome and lumpish. And there—wonder of wonders!—balanced on its warming flame, Aunt Kade’s gigantic silver tea urn, like a forgotten ghost from Inos’s childhood. The day she had met Sagorn and knocked over that urn—absurd, irrelevant, vulgar thing! —Father had joked about her burning down the castle… That insidious, unexpected, irrelevant fragment of memory made a quick dash around her defenses and grabbed her by the throat and almost defeated her, but she averted her eyes quickly from the wretched tea urn and started to say that no thank you she couldn’t eat a thing. Except that her mouth was full of pastry. So she sat down and stuffed herself, drinking strong tea poured by Aunt Kade from that same monstrous urn, which was now only a very ugly utensil.

Then she looked up to see that Mother Unonini had returned. Inos rose slowly and was given another fishy hug. “Insolan, my child—I mean, your Ma . .” The gritty voice hesitated, and then began a knell about the weighing of souls, and how much the Good had exceded the Evil in Father and all the predictable platitudes. Inos shut it out.

It was over, and she would shed no tears today.

It was a release.

There was some good in every evil.

There was also a medic, shuffling and awkward. She asked him, “What now?”

He began to mumble about the lying in state. She remembered her mother’s lying in state in the great hall and the chains of weeping citizens filing by. So she told the man to go ahead, and some part of her was standing back, watching this masterly self- control of hers with amazement. Then there were more hugs from Aunt Kade and Mother Unonini, and a stronger one from Andor, and bows and mutterings from the other men, while she was vaguely aware that people were trooping through the room, heading up to the royal bedchamber. In a little while they carried the body back down, she supposed, but she turned her face away and ignored these necessary unpleasantnesses. Soon the great bell of the castle began to toll, slow in the distance, muffled and dread.

But the attendants departed at last, and the door was closed, and she could not ignore the world forever. The night had longer to run yet. When she turned around to face the men again, she discovered a newcomer—the odious, square-headed Proconsul Yggingi.

The king was dead; the ravens were landing. As always he was in uniform, clutching his crested helmet under one arm and resting his other hand on the hilt of his sword of office, an elaborate and gaudy thing of gilt. She feared him, she thought, but only him. Anything or anyone else she could manage.

“Factor?” she said, knowing that Foronod was the most competent of the council. “What now? The city must be informed.”

Foronod bowed and said nothing.

Which was not very helpful.

“Well?” she demanded. “When shall I be proclaimed queen?”

The craggy face remained without expression, but she could sense the fury burning below its jotunnish pallor. “That decision is apparently not presently within the jurisdiction of your late father’s council, miss.” He was biting the words. “Imperial troops have taken control of the palace and the town. Sergeant Thosolin and his men have been disarmed and confined. I suggest you address your inquiries to Proconsul Yggingi.”

He bowed again and stepped back against the wall.

Inos restrained a mad impulse to burst into tears or throw herself into Andor’s arms. She had led the predator back to her lair and now she must turn and give battle to it, to the monster whose thugs controlled her homeland. She looked expectantly and coldly—she hoped coldly—at the proconsul.

He lowered his head in a hint of a bow. “Perhaps we could have a word in private, Highness?”

Andor and Aunt Kade both started to protest.

“Highness?” Inos said.

She saw a glint of amusement in the piggy eyes. “Beg pardon—your Majesty.”

Well! That might be her first victory. “Certainly, Excellency,” Inos said. “Come with me.”

Holding her chin up, she marched over to the doorway that led upstairs, wishing she had a long gown to swish impressively, realizing that she was still in her soiled riding clothes. Probably her hair was a mess, but at least she had not been weeping. She stamped up the stairs into the dressing room, with its wardrobes and chests and one large couch. It was really only a junk storage. She would have it cleaned out in the summer. The candles were inadequate, leaving the big room dim and crowded with shadows—which might be a good thing if it would help conceal her expression, for surely Yggingi was a much more experienced negotiator than she was. But she had nothing to negotiate. He was going to dictate his orders.

She stopped beside the couch, spun around, and said, “Well?”

He was still clasping his stupid helmet and his armor flickered with dozens of little candle flames. He was a square, broad man, a hard man, a killer. He moved too close, deliberately threatening.

“Did you get it?”

The question seemed so meaningless that she felt her mouth move and nothing came out.

“The word!” he snapped.

“What word?”

He flushed angrily. “Did your father tell you the word of power? Inisso’s word?”

She was about to say “No!” and then she recalled that among all the other gibberish her father had spoken about Inisso…

Yggingi saw her hesitation and bared his teeth in a smile. “Do you know what it means?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head.

He took another half step closer and had to bend his head to look down at her. His breath was sour, and told her that the palace wine cellar had now been liberated.

“You have three things of value, little girl. One is a very pretty body. We may negotiate on that later, but I can find those anywhere, almost as good. You also have a kingdom—sort-of-have a kingdom. I never thought I wanted that, and now I’ve seen it, I’m sure. It certainly isn’t worth fighting over, but I’m told that the jotnar are on their way, so I may have to fight. But the third thing you have is that word. And that I want. That is what I came for.”

Gibberish! She doubted that she could recall much of the nonsense her father had spoken, but if this horror thought that she had something he wanted…

“What’s it worth?”

He laughed. “Your looks. Your virtue. Your life. It’s worth more than all of those.”

She pushed down terror. She had expected him to order her to sign away her inheritance, or possibly to announce her engagement to Angilki. She had never expected this nonsense about words. “Why? My life for a word?”

“Do you know who’s paying my troops? Your precious aunt, or whatever she is to you, the duchess of Kinvale.”

Ekka! So it had been that damned hag after all! Inos tried to replace fear with anger, but failed. She did not speak.

“Two thousand imperials she gave me to bring you here, plus whatever I can squeeze out of Krasnegar. All she wants is you, with that word—sent back to marry her idiot son.”

“Never!”

He grinned. “I agree. I never liked that deal. Besides, it’s not possible. I closed the road, didn’t I?”

She just looked at him in silence, bewildered, fighting to keep herself under control. She was crushed back against the couch and could not retreat.

“No way out until the ships come,” he said. “I closed the road, I roused the goblins. I wanted to keep certain friends of mine from coming after me, but it also means that no one can get out! We’re trapped!”

“How much?” she said with sudden wild hope. “How much to ransom Krasnegar?”

He chuckled. “Just the word—the word to ransom it from the jotnar. I must have that word!”

“Why?” He must be totally mad, and certainly there was a very strange look in his eyes.

“Because I 'm a soldier! I have a talent for stamping out vermin. With a word—” Then he seemed to realize how little she understood of this raving. He wheeled around, marched back to the door, and shot the bolt. Then he tossed his helmet down on a chair and stalked her, as she retreated, until finally he had her against the wall. He grabbed her shoulder and grinned at the sight of her terror. He licked his lips.

“You begin to believe I’m serious? Well, I’ll make you an offer, little miss. Give me the word, and I’ll see you’re proclaimed queen. I’ll defend your throne from Kalkor, and from your rebellious subjects, too, and I promise I won’t hurt you. Marry that Andor man if you want—I don’t care about that. But otherwise I shall start now by breaking your pretty little nose, and go on from there until no man will ever want to marry what’s left of you. I think my offer is worth considering, don’t you?”

It was an extraordinary offer. It was better than she could have ever dared hope. No one could question her rule if she had Yggingi’s armed might at her back. But could she believe him? Could she trust him? And could she recall the gibberish her father had spoken, and could Yggingi tell the difference if she simply made up some more gibberish of her own?

“Well?” he shouted. His fingers dug deeper into her shoulder. She tried to break loose and was appalled at his strength.

“I—”

A sudden noise from above?

Yggingi raised his head and regarded the shadowed ceiling. “What was that?”

She did not know either. It had sounded like furniture moving above them, in the bedchamber, and she had thought all the medics and undertakers had gone. Dark with suspicion, Yggingi wheeled and marched over to the doorway to the staircase up, drawing his sword as he went.

Inos fled to the other door and began to wrestle with the bolt, and for a terrifying minute it seemed to be too stiff for her, then it moved. She hauled the door open and fell into Andor’s arms.

Well, one of his arms. He was holding his sword in his other hand. “All right, my darling?”

“Yes,” she said. “I think so.”

He pulled the door shut and used both arms, holding his sword behind her. Much better! He tried to kiss her, but she was frightened that a kiss might snap the thin thread holding her together, so she declined the kiss. But it was wonderful to be held.

“He’s a horror!” she mumbled into Andor’s shoulder.

“The worst sort of dreg,” he agreed. “You go on down to the others and leave the proconsul to me.”

She pulled away, startled. “No! Andor! He’s a soldier—”

Andor flashed his teeth in a confident grin. “I shall be in no danger. It will be a pleasure.”

“Fight him?”

“I’m quite capable, my princess. I just prefer not to do it before witnesses, so you go down.”

He had never told her that he was a duelist—wonderful man! And no one had ever offered to commit a murder for her before. Just for a moment, she teetered on the brink of hysteria, then she recovered. “No, Andor! He has two thousand men here. You mustn’t!”

“This may be my only chance to get him alone, Inos.”

“No! I forbid it!”

“If you wish.” Looking disappointed, he sheathed his sword. “He’s only the first, you know.”

“What?”

“The first one after your word of power. It’s common knowledge that the kings of Krasnegar inherited one of Inisso’s words. Everyone will assume that you have it, whether you do or not.”

She broke loose. “I don’t understand.” Why was the proconsul not already coming after her?

“It would take too long to explain.” Even in the darkness of the narrow stairwell, concern glowed on that handsome face. “You mustn’t tell the word to anyone!”

“No,” she said.

“No one!” he insisted. “They’re dangerous to know, but much more dangerous if you tell anyone.”

“Yes,” she said, not understanding. “I’ll remember.”

He studied her for a moment. “There’s no real defense, Inos, but there is one thing you could do that would help a little. It might make Yggingi hesitate a bit, and it would certainly cut off one line of attack.”

She was totally confused now. “What’s that, Andor?”

“Marry me. There’s a chaplain down there. She can marry us on the spot. Tonight. Now.”

“Andor!” Again she was at a total loss for words. Too many things were happening too quickly. Finally she said, “Dear Andor, that’s a wonderful thought, but I can’t decide something like that right now. And it would put you in danger, also!”

“No!” he said excitedly. He took her hand and began to lead her down the narrow stairway, speaking rapidly as if he were working it all out. “The factor says that Kalkor’s coming to claim the throne. He’ll be here as soon as the ice goes. Kalkor’s a terror. No matter what Yggingi thinks, he’ll wad up those imps and throw them away. But then he’ll want to marry you.”

“I thought he was married already?” she protested, before remembering what Aunt Kade had once told her about Nordlanders.

And Andor now confirmed it. They were already at the bottom of the stairs, outside the door of the withdrawing room, where everyone must still be waiting to hear the proconsul’s terms. “Thanes change wives like shirts. Probably more often. But he can’t marry you if you’re married to me.”

“He could solve that problem!”

“Only if he can find me!” Andor laughed. “I’m a good man at disappearing. Don’t you see, Inos? That’s your escape! Marry me, and I’ll stay out of sight—I promise you I can do that easily enough, but I haven’t got time to explain now. We’ll let the jotnar kill off the imps. Then we’ll go back to the Impire together in the spring!”

Again she wondered why Yggingi was not coming down the stairs after her. “And lose my kingdom? No, darling, I have a duty.”

He smiled, and she heard it more than saw it in the dimness. “Good for you!” he said admiringly. “Inos, I love you! And if the kingdom is what you want, then we’ll have to save it for you—and marrying me is still your best strategy!”

He was right, she thought. And then he had gone down on one knee before her. “Queen Inosolon, will you marry me?”

Her first, insane, thought was that she was filthy and bedraggled and wearing riding clothes, shivering in an icy stairwell lighted by one spluttering candle. All those wonderful gowns she had worn at Kinvale, in ballrooms, on terraces under moonlight—none of them had provoked a proposal. And her father… Then she told her mind to stop evading the question. With Andor she could face all of them.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He jumped up and this time he did kiss her. Oh, Andor! Why had she not called him in to meet Father? Andor, Andor! Strong, and reliable, and—

“Quick, then!” He glanced up the stairs, so he also must be wondering what was keeping the soldier. “Now, my darling? Right now?”

“Yes!” She pushed open the door and marched in, holding Andor’s hand. All across the big circular chamber, the spectators started in surprise. Those who were sitting on those flimsy gold and rosewood chairs rose slowly to their feet.

“Your Highness, your Holiness, Mother Unonini, gentlemen,” Andor said. “Queen Inosolan has consented to become my wife.”

She tried to see everyone’s reaction at once, but they were too spread out. The imps, she thought, all looked pleased. Certainly Chancellor Yaltauri beamed. Bishop Havyili was asleep. Foronod frowned, but then he often did that. He did not speak. Aunt Kade… Aunt Kade was not smiling as she should be.

Queen or not, Aunt Kade was her guardian now, until she came of age. Or did that not apply to queens? How could she be a minor and reign as a queen at the same time? Inos led Andor over to her aunt.

“Well? Aren’t you going to congratulate us?”

Flustered, Aunt Kade glanced at Andor and then back to Inos. “You are quite sure, my dear? It just seems… so soon…”

“Quite sure!”

Her aunt managed a smile. “Well, then certainly I congratulate you.” But she did not look certainly—she looked perhapsly.

They hugged.

Still no Yggingi? Maybe they could manage what Andor had suggested—marry at once, before the proconsul came storming down to stop them. “Chaplain?” Inos said. “Marry us!”

That provoked some reaction. Aunt Kade’s rosy complexion turned almost as pale as her silver gown, and Inos had never seen that before. Mother Unonini went as black as her robe. The men muttered.

“That seems even more, well, unseemly,” Aunt Kade said. “Your father is barely… It is very soon. Surely you could wait a while, my dear.”

Inos glanced at the closed door. “I am sorry that it must be this way, but Andor and I think it would be advisable. Very quickly! A matter of state. Chaplain?”

Mother Unonini did not move from where she was standing. She pouted, bleaker than ever. “Inosolan, do you recall what the God told you? Remember love! Are you remembering love?”

Inos looked up at Andor. He looked down at her. They smiled.

“Oh, yes!” she said.

“I think you should wait a—”

Inos did not let the chaplain finish. “No!” she shouted. “Now! Before the proconsul comes back! Quickly!”

Mother Unonini flinched and sought support from Aunt Kade, who bit her lip and muttered, “It might be… a reasonable precaution.”

The chaplain shook her head vigorously. The men were mostly still frowning at this improper and irreverent haste. Inos wondered if she should be asking her council’s permission, but if they did not suggest it, then she certainly would not.

Of course! Inos did not need the horrid chaplain. Indeed, she had been making a serious error. Gripping Andor’s wrist, she dragged him across to Bishop Havyili, who was nodding peacefully on a sofa. The bishop was notorious for sleeping anywhere—even on horseback, her father had said.

“Your Holiness!”

“Mmm?” His Holiness opened his eyes.

“Marry me!”

“What?” Bewildered, the bishop struggled to his feet—old and dumpy and pathetically unimpressive for a bishop.

“Marry us!” Inos shouted, stamping her foot. “A matter of state! It’s urgent! Now! At once!”

Blinking, but obedient, the bishop mumbled, “Dearly beloved friends—”

“Oh, never mind all that!” Inos stormed. Yggingi must be on his way now. “Get to the important part!”

The audience muttered again. The bishop spluttered and for a moment seemed about to argue. Then he changed his mind. “Are there any here among you present who know cause why this man and this woman should not be united in sacred matrimony?” Mercifully he did not pause for answers, “Then do you, er…”

“Andor.”

“Andor, take this . .”

His voice trailed off. His gaze went past Inos. The door creaked, and she swung around in terror.

Slowly it swung open.

In came…

Impossible!

That was the second worst shock of that terrible day.

He bowed stiffly in her direction, across the whole width of the room. He swallowed, hesitated. “Sorry about your father, Inos—your Majesty,” he said hoarsely. “Very sorry.”

He was holding Yggingi’s sword of office.

3

Foronod said, “The horse thief!” and it was certainly Rap.

He was no longer the filthy goblin of the forest. He was shaved and clean. His tangle of brown hair might have been cut with a saw, but it was as tidy as it could ever be. He wore an ancient, ill-fitting brown doublet and very patched gray wool hose. Only the sword he was holding and the ludicrous raccoon tattoos around his eyes marked him as anything other than some commonplace flunky in the quaintly rustic palace of Krasnegar. But he did have a nervous, rather sick expression on his very plain face.

And he did have the proconsul’s sword.

Inos felt supernatural fingers stroking her scalp—a wraith? Why would Rap’s ghost haunt her, of all people?

Everyone else in the room seemed to have been turned to stone.

“Where is Proconsul Yggingi?” Foronod demanded.

Rap glanced down at the inexplicable sword. “Was that his name?” He coughed, as if feeling nauseated. “He’s dead.”

No, he was no ghost. Inos gasped with relief. It was Rap.

A mutter of shock was followed by a flickering of eyes as everyone tried to work out what his news meant—two thousand Imperial soldiers in town and their leader murdered?

“Rap!” Inos said. “You didn’t!”

He shook his head angrily. “But I helped!”

And another youth stepped through the door behind Rap, a young goblin, shorter and heavyset, with dark khaki skin and short black hair, big ears and a long nose. He wore boots, hose, and pants, but from the waist up he was bare, and the company hissed in disgust at this vulgarity.

He grinned widely, showing long white teeth. He held up a stone dagger—proudly, like a child bragging. Hand and blade glistened with fresh blood.

“This is Little Chicken of Raven Totem,” Rap said. “He just avenged that village your proconsul slaughtered.”

“I thought goblins preferred their victims tied up,” Andor remarked coldly.

Rap seemed to notice Andor for the first time, and his gaze slid down to where Andor and Inos were holding hands, and back again. “This one made an exception. And I don’t blame him.”

Foronod moved to the downstairs door.

“Stop!” Rap shouted, lifting his sword slightly.

Inos glanced around the room. Only Andor had a weapon. The imps had disarmed the city.

The factor did stop. He turned to glare at Rap, who blushed.

“Sir… Sir, I guided your wagons for you once, didn’t I? And that messed up my life. I need your help now… Sir?”

Foronod’s blue eyes were chips of polar ice. “A horse thief? A murderer?”

“Sir!” Rap hesitated. “Sir, when you heard I was the one who’d stolen the horses… were you at all surprised?”

The ice-blue eyes stared hard at him for a long minute. “Maybe I was at that.”

“Then grant me a chance to explain,” Rap pleaded. “It must be done now. There is another horse thief—and another murderer.” He pointed his sword at Andor. “Ask him what he did with Doctor Sagorn.”

Stunned silence. Then Andor squeezed Inos’s hand and led her over to the table and a sofa, near Aunt Kade. “I think you had better stay here a moment, ladies,” he said coldly. “There may be some danger.”

“Danger?” Inos repeated. From Rap?

Then her missing wits seemed to fall back into place. “Rap!” she said. “How did you get here from Pondague?”

Rap looked surprised at the question, then a wisp of a grin crossed his face. “I ran.”

“Inos, my darling,” Andor said, “I don’t think this is truly the boy you used to know.” He made a scoffing sound. “Ran? That’s quite impossible, obviously. Chaplain, Holiness—I think we may have a demon here. It appeared to us in the mountains on our way here. I’m quite sure that no one could have passed us on the trail.”

Inos was looking at Rap’s legs. He had grown taller since last summer and his face was thin, but she could not recall ever seeing hose filled more authoritatively than his were now. Ran?

Everyone else seemed to be leaving the situation to Andor. He strode forward a few steps. “Now, you—boy or demon or whatever you are—put the sword on that table. You’ll be given a fair trial. Isn’t that so, Chancellor?”

There was a silence, while nothing happened. Rap seemed to set his jaw more tightly, but he did not speak. The goblin grinned, eyes flickering around the faces.

Foronod was scowling. “Out with it! What are you implying about Doctor Sagorn?”

Rap answered without taking his eyes off Andor. “Only two of us left here, sir. You know that by the gear we took—saddles and bedrolls. I was never up in this part of the palace, but Andor was. What did he do with Doctor Sagorn?”

The factor looked at Andor, who said simply, “I know nothing about Doctor Sagorn. I left alone, on two horses I had purchased in good faith. As I told you, I had no idea that they were stolen. I got them from this boy, or whatever he is.”

Foronod considered and then said, “There will have to be a trial. The proconsul is apparently dead and the Imperial forces will demand that we hand over the perpetrators.”

Again he turned toward the door, and again Rap said, “Stop!” He looked to Inos and said stiffly, “Sorry, Inos. I have to do this. Factor, you owe me a little more time. Bolt the door please, so he can’t escape. That man is a sorcerer.”

Inos had to shout over the sudden babble. “Rap, stop that! You insulted Sir Andor before and I won’t have it! He’s a fine gentleman and I am going to marry him.”

Rap shook his head, looking miserable. “I am truly sorry, your Majesty, truly sorry, but I have to. I wish it could wait until longer after… Well, it has to be done now.”

“What exactly has to be done?” Andor inquired softly.

Again Rap appealed to Foronod. “Sir, if I ever did anything for you, will you please bolt that door?”

The factor frowned, shrugged, and went over to the downstairs door, picking up a massive pewter candlestick on the way. He shot the bolt, turned, and stood with his back to the door, holding the candlestick like a club.

Inos caught a pained look from Andor and said, “Rap!” angrily.

“Please, everyone stand back,” Rap said, and there was a stampede away from Andor, leaving him in isolation. With studied unconcern he unclipped his cloak and tossed it gracefully over a chair. He was showing how a gentleman should treat such rudeness, and Inos felt proud of him.

“Inos—your Majesty, I mean.” Rap blushed at his error. “When that Andor is in danger, he turns into something else. It’s the only way I know to show him up. I’m sorry.”

Inos gasped at such insanity and the audience muttered. She felt very sad. “Oh, Rap! What happened to the old Rap I used to know? He was a sane, solid boy, not given to mad suspicions and delusions. I depended on that Rap! I… I liked him.”

Rap turned very pale. He licked white lips and said, “Sorry, Inos,” so quietly she could hardly hear him.

The calmest person in the room was Andor.

“Are you planning to challenge me to a duel, young man?”

“Sort of,” Rap said.

“Just you, or your goblin friend as well?”

Rap shook his head. “Not Little Chicken.” He turned his head and snapped something in goblin dialect. Little Chicken shrugged and moved away. That put him closer to old Kondoral, who became alarmed and edged sideways, out of reach.

“Well, go ahead!” Andor said. “If you won’t drop that sword I shall have to make you drop it, as I am the only one armed.”

“You know you’re a much better swordsman than I am.”

Andor shrugged. “A reasonable assumption, but we shall see.”

Rap looked disgusted. “But you already know. You gave me lessons. Didn’t you tell her Majesty that?”

Inos knew that Andor had felt confident of beating Yggingi, a professional soldier. “Darling,” she muttered, “please try not to hurt him any more than you must.”

Andor might not have heard that quiet appeal. His blade hissed out, flashing gold flame back at the sconces. “Last chance! Drop that weapon.”

Rap shook his head. “This is what you told me once, Andor—do you remember? No more wooden swords, you said. And something about earning the prizes or taking the punishment. So we play for real—showdown! Those are the rules. Ready?”

“Yes!” Andor started forward. A huge gray dog slunk in through the door at Rap’s side, a dog as big as a wolf. It fixed yellow eyes on Andor and bristled menacingly. Inos heard herself cry out. She tried to move forward and Aunt Kade grabbed her wrist. The palace dogs had always followed Rap around…

Andor froze. Then he raised his left hand to his right shoulder, covering his neck with his arm.

Rap pointed, but the monster was already creeping forward toward Andor, who now began to back away, holding his sword stiffly in front of him.

Then his hip met the table and he could retreat no farther. As if that were a signal, the dog streaked across the room and flew for his throat like a silver arrow. Andor’s sword stroke was hopelessly late, but his left arm was still high enough to catch the fangs. Man and beast fell back across the table amid a chorus of screams. Table toppled; china and silver and sword rattled down; the combatants rolled over and crashed to the floor. Aunt Kade released Inos, took one step, and expertly snatched the burner from below the tea urn as the urn itself toppled. Inos jumped aside hurriedly to escape a great explosion of tea—most of which seemed to head for Bishop Havyili—noting with relief that the castle would not burn down this time, either, and then both she and Kade backed off from the roaring, tangled scrimmage rolling toward their feet. Mother Unonini seemed to be screaming the loudest. The combatants writhed and thrashed. The wolf was growling, clothes ripping. Then Rap shouted, “Fleabag!”

The dog broke loose and backed off, snarling and showing teeth.

The man on the floor was not Andor.

More screaming.

The romances told of unfortunate women who went mad with grief. Inos wondered now if this was how such insanity felt, for surely what she saw could not all be really happening?

He was huge. Andor’s elegant green doublet and hose had split in places and been ripped in others, revealing skin and a pelt of yellow hair. His left arm was dribbling blood, his chest was ripped and bleeding, also, but he was already sitting up, seeming unaware of his injuries.

“This is Darad!” Rap said sadly.

He was much bigger than Andor, and at least twenty years older. A jotunn, not an imp. He glared around the room with the ugliest, most battered face imaginable. Inos shrank back until a chair blocked her. Everyone else seemed to be pressed against the wall, staring wide-eyed.

Then the giant snatched up the sword and bounced to his feet.

Foronod turned to unbolt the downstairs door.

“Stop that!” the giant roared, and the factor froze.

Darad looked to Rap. “Call off your pet, or I kill it.”

Rap snapped his fingers and the great dog withdrew unwillingly, teeth bare, yellow eyes fixed on its former opponent.

Rap said, “Fleabag!” very loudly. With obvious reluctance, the dog slunk to his side. “Inos, I’m sorry about this. I had to warn you.”

She found her voice. “Who are you? Where is Andor?”

The mangled face looked at her—cruel blue eyes, cruel. “Come here, Princess.”

“No!” She tried to edge around the chair, and the monster moved like a striking snake, taking two huge strides, catching her arm, twisting her round and crushing her against him, her face in his chest, all in one blur of motion.

He chuckled gutturally. “Now we have a little security! Any trouble and the girl dies.”

His strength was unbelievable—that one huge arm bound her immovably against a chest like a cliff. The icy touch against the back of her neck must be his sword. Andor! Andor! There was none of the faint odor of rosewater that she had noticed on Andor. This man stank of sweat, and faintly of goblin.

Then she made the mistake of trying to struggle—to bite and kick. Instantly the ogre twisted her arm up her back and squeezed all the air out of her, as if to show how easily he could snap her if he wished. Her ribs would collapse, her spine crack, she could not cry out, there was blackness and a roaring in her head, agony. Then suddenly he eased off, and she could suck in blessed air and her brain no longer seemed about to burst.

“Don’t try that again!” he muttered.

No—Inos gasped, feeling her heart yammering like a mad bird inside her head, and also hearing the slower, level thump of the man’s. He did not seem very worried by his predicament.

“Now—the dog behind the door!” he demanded.

Stupid Rap! Rap had called up this Darad-monster in place of Andor, but what could he possibly do to get rid of it? The reverse transformation would not be so easy.

And Rap was evidently trying to reason. She could not see, but she heard his voice, harsh and stubborn. “What are you going to do, Darad? You can’t escape from here. Let her go. Give up!”

She felt a low growl rising inside the man before any sound came out. “The dog!” Cold steel touched the back of her neck again.

The door clicked as Rap obeyed. She felt the giant relax slightly. “Now drop the sword!”

With her head so awkwardly twisted, all Inos could see was Aunt Kade’s horrified face, screwed up in terror. What was Rap doing?

“Drop it!” roared the giant.

She heard a thump that might be a sword falling. What were all the men doing? But they must be all hopelessly frozen. Again she felt that cold touch of steel at the nape of her neck.

“Now make your friend throw down his dagger!”

There was a pause, and she supposed Rap was obeying that order, also. She heard the goblin argue, then stop.

“That’s much better!” the giant said. He spoke poorly and was probably slow-witted, although he could move faster than anyone she had ever seen. Blood from his arm was soaking through her doublet—she could feel it, like hot soup. “Away from the door, all of you!”

“You can’t escape!” That was Foronod.

“Can’t I? Then the girl dies first.”

“No, you can’t!” Rap again. “Call Sagorn. He’s better at thinking, isn’t he?”

But the men must have cleared the doorway, because Darad began to edge around the room, half carrying, half dragging Inos, keeping his sword arm toward the men.

She saw Aunt Kade and Mother Unonini, side by side, eyes wide with horror, mouths open. Darad went right by them, no doubt assuming that women were harmless.

But Kade was still holding the burner from the tea urn, and as soon as Inos was safely shielded by the giant’s body, she removed the cover, took two fast steps forward, and threw burning oil all over his back.

4

Darad’s agonized scream exploded against Inos’s eardrums. She was hurled aside and fell headlong to the rug, hearing the sword clatter on floorboards nearby. She caught a glimpse of Rap and the goblin leaping forward as Rap seized a chair and swung it two-handed, shattering it on the giant’s head. Even then, Darad seemed to throw himself down, rather than fall. He rolled over on his back to extinguish the flaming cloth, and Little Chicken landed on him with both feet. He jackknifed, throwing off the goblin, and had already started to rise when Rap disassembled more of Aunt Kade’s rosewood furniture over his head. Then Rap reached for a third chair, but it was not needed.

Kade and the chaplain hurried to help Inos. The goblin bounced to his feet, lunged across the room, grabbed up Andor’s discarded cloak, and was already ripping it into strips as he raced back to the prostrate jotunn. With astonishing speed, as if they had been practicing as a team, he and Rap bound the man’s hands and feet, and suddenly the emergency was over.

Inos allowed Mother Unonini to lead her to the sofa, but then she pushed the chaplain away, not wanting anyone very close at the moment, for she was trembling, and queens must not tremble. She sat down and folded her hands in her lap and tried to concentrate on being regal. She was covered in cold tea and Darad’s blood, of course, which did not help.

The older men were gathered around Kade, congratulating her on her quick-wittedness. Kade was preening, enjoying it. Not one of those men had done a damned thing of any use that Inos had seen, except stamp out a smoldering rug. It had all been Kade and Rap and Little Chicken.

The monster lay on the floor, tightly bound and reeking of burned hair. His back must be very painful, and his arm and head were still oozing blood, but he was staying silent, just glaring up furiously at the goblin, who was sitting cross-legged on his chest, leering triumphantly at him and playfully drawing little patterns in front of his face with the bloodstained dagger.

Rap was standing guard there, too, with the proconsul’s sword in his hand. He was worried and seemed to be watching the goblin as much as the jotunn.

And now what was going to happen? Surely she could not take any more shocks this night? And she did not have Andor to lean on any more. Oh, Andor! She felt a great emptiness in her life—first Father, and then Andor…

Foronod stepped out of the group, accosting Rap. “You said you had an excuse for your horse thievery?”

Rap flushed. “Yes, I do. Andor!”

“You were still at least an accomplice!”

“He used occult power on me!”

Foronod grunted, sounding skeptical. The gangling jotunn could look down on Rap and was doing so now. There were very few men in Krasnegar who could withstand the factor’s authority when he was in that mood, but Rap thrust out his jaw and scowled around the circle of other men, who were all listening intently.

“And on you!” he shouted. “You were going to accept him as king!”

He had struck a nerve there, the factor flinched. “In any case you now must answer a murder charge—you cannot blame Andor for that.” He paused, suspicious. “How did you get up there, anyway? Either you’ve got a lot more occult power than you ever admitted, or you had accomplices.”

“Accomplices?”' Rap could look extraordinarily stupid when he wanted to. He turned his idiot expression on Inos. “Your Majesty? Do I answer this man’s questions?”

Foronod spun on his heel. He was already at the door before Inos had scrambled to her feet.

“Factor! We did not hear your request for permission to withdraw.” Was that her, really her?

The tall man swung around and returned her glare. “Good night, miss!” He bowed perfunctorily.

“That is not sufficient!” But she was too shrill, and she had almost stamped her foot.

Foronod was not intimidated by juvenile females. “It will have to do for now, miss. I shall inform the soldiers that their leader is dead. I expect they will wish to take suitable action.”

Rap! He had tried to help her, and Inos would have to defend him somehow. She took a deep breath and forced herself to speak calmly. “You will do no such thing!”

Foronod’s bony face was well suited for registering disdain. He paused with the door already open. “Indeed? And what do I say when I am asked where the proconsul is?”

Now there was a very good question! Inos looked at Rap, who shrugged; at Mother Unonini, who frowned; even at the goblin, who scratched his disgustingly bare chest and grinned all over his ugly, bristled face.

Aunt Kade sighed resignedly. “Tell them he is in conference in the queen’s bedroom and must not be disturbed.”

That suggestion was greeted with shock and silent outrage.

“What is this tale of Thane Kalkor?” Inos inquired.

The factor smiled, thin-lipped. “He has been informed of the situation. We expect him as soon as the pack ice clears the shore. How many men he is bringing I am not sure, but I expect they will suffice. A ratio of one jotunn to four imps is usually ample.”

She noted the scowls on the faces of the imps present, a few grins from the other jotnar. But the door was still open and she must buy time to think before they all started pouring down the stairs and everything got out of hand.

Not that things were very well in hand at the moment.

“Kalkor is coming at your invitation?”

“An invitation of which I was one signatory, miss. Jotnar will not accept rule by a woman.”

Half the population of Krasnegar were jotnar.

“That may be the law in Nordland, but there is no such law here. Chancellor Yaltauri, how do you feel about this treason?”

“You needn’t appeal to him,” Foronod said. “Months ago he sent off a letter to the imperor, petitioning for a protectorate status.”

Inos wavered on the edge of despair. What use now was Kinvale? What use dancing and elocution and scales on the spinnet? What use embroidery and sketching? Why had her father not taught her some statecraft while there was still time —given her fencing lessons, even, or explained politics and what made men act like beasts?

Somehow she managed to step back from the abyss. “Very well!” she said. “You may withdraw, but you will not mention the proconsul unless you are asked. In that case you may follow my aunt’s recommendation, and I shall worry later about my reputation. All those of you willing to accept me as your rightful queen please remain behind. The rest of you may leave.”

Then she stood there and watched her hopes dribble out the door, one by one, defiant or apologetic or shamefaced. The last one to go was Mother Unonini, who stood by the door and hesitated.

“I offer you a blessing, child.”

“If you were a loyal friend you would not be leaving,” Inos replied waspishly. “If you are leaving I don’t want it.”

The door thunked closed.

Inos stalked across in a most unregal fashion and slammed the bolt. Then she turned to survey the wreckage of the room, chairs awry or shattered, one rug bejeweled with smashed china and a sea of tea stain, another a charred mess stinking of burned oil, another bearing a prostrate giant in shredded green garments, glaring death wishes at her. The fire had gone out and many of the candles, also. The stench of burning hung in the shadows, and the place looked like the aftermath of a riotous party. She wondered what the time was—it felt like the small hours of tomorrow.

Kade and a goblin… and Rap.

“I seem to have inherited a very small kingdom,” she said bitterly.

Still standing guard over the prisoner, looking absurd in his tattoos, Rap sent her a very faint, wry little smile. “Then I can be master-of-horse and sergeant-at-arms both?”

“Oh, Rap!” He thought he had been helpful, and certainly he had meant well, but he had cost her any chance she might have had of winning her kingdom. By exposing Andor he had made her seem a fool and had also made the members of the council feel duped. They all resented that and they were blaming her. Obviously in their eyes she was not fit to be a queen. Without their support she had nothing. Had Rap not intervened, she would have been married to Andor by now and in a better position to face down the terrible Kalkor.

Or perhaps she would have been Yggingi’s prisoner.

Or wedded to that horrid Darad ogre, also? She shuddered.

So Rap had helped and apparently he was the only one loyal to her. At the same time as she wanted to scream at him, she also wanted to run and hug him.

And for a moment their eyes passed that message. But it would not be fair. They were not children anymore. Don’t smile too much at the servants, her aunt had taught her. She managed to walk over to him calmly, and she took his hands in hers. Big, strong hands. Man’s hands. “Thank you, Rap! I am sorry I ever doubted you. I was horrid to you in the forest—”

“It was Andor did that! He made me steal horses, too!”

“Well, I’m very grateful for all your help and your loyalty.”

For a moment he just stood there, staring dumbly at her, and she actually saw the shiny gems of perspiration appear on his forehead. Then he blushed scarlet and looked down at his feet.

“My duty, Majesty.”

So the danger was past. Oh, poor Rap!

“The first thing we have to do is to think how to get you out of here,” she said. “You hid in the top chamber, I suppose? Rap, I do so want to hear how you worked all these miracles! But first we must get you to a safe place.”

“There isn’t one,” he said somberly. “That bolt won’t stop a couple of thousand imps, and they’ll be coming soon. I’d better just turn us in, me and Little Chicken. If they put off the execution until the jotnar get here, then Kalkor may pardon us. Maybe.”

Inos clenched her fists. “There has to be a better idea than that! Aunt Kade?”

“I don’t know, dear.” Her aunt was leaning back on the sofa, looking old and bedraggled and utterly weary. “I managed to ruin your reputation, but I think I agree with Master Rap—it won’t hold for very long.”

“Rap, who is Little Chicken? A friend?”

“He’s my slave.” Rap was turning pink again. “And he won’t let me free him.”

Slave? Torture? “How did you… Why not, for Gods' sake?”

Rap had never been much of a man for smiles, but once in a while he had been known to indulge a sort of shy grin, and momentarily that showed now. Strangely she discovered that it was the most welcome thing she had seen all day.

“Because he wants to kill me. It’s quite a complicated story.”

“It must be!” But it would have to wait. Inos looked down at the prisoner, Darad. Had she been going to marry this? She shuddered again. “And this horror is Andor?”

“I don’t know. He changes into Andor, or Andor into him. And I think they’re Sagorn and Jalon the minstrel, too.”

“Sagorn?” she said. “That must be what Father meant! He said I could trust Sagorn, but not the others, except maybe Thinal. Who’s Thinal?”

Rap looked surprised. “No idea. But we can try to call up Sagorn, if you think we can trust him. I’m frightened of this monster getting loose.”

“How can you do that?”

“Let’s find out.” Rap dropped on one knee and said politely to Darad, “Please will you turn into Doctor Sagorn?”

The absurdity of the request made Inos want to giggle, and she must not start down that slippery slope. The giant’s ruined face twisted in anger. He growled an obscenity and strained against his bonds and the goblin’s weight. He was obviously in pain, sweat mingling with the blood on his forehead.

Rap smirked meanly at him. “I shall let Little Chicken try to persuade you, then. That would be fair, wouldn’t it? After all, you introduced us.”

Little Chicken, still sitting on the man’s chest, started to grin again, obviously understanding at least some of the talk.

“You wouldn’t!” Darad growled from the floor.

“I would!” Rap said.

Little Chicken was certainly following the conversation. With no further ado, he cold-bloodedly poked a finger in Darad’s eye.

He howled. “Tell him to get off, then!”

Rap motioned for the goblin to rise. He stood up, and the man on the floor was Sagorn.

Little Chicken hissed loudly and jumped back.

Rap said, “Gods! That’s quite a trick, isn’t it?”

Again Inos remembered the ladies in the romances who went mad with grief; she wondered how many of them could have had this much fun first.

“Doctor Sagorn!” Aunt Kade beamed, and Inos half expected her to add, How nice that you can join us.

The old man smiled up at them bitterly. “If you trust me, then you won’t mind if I remove these bonds?” Despite his undignified position, his sparse white hair was tidy, and he seemed calm and composed. He slipped his wrists free easily, for the tethers had been fitted to Darad’s mightier limbs.

Rap cut his ankles free, also, and then helped him to rise. “Let’s see if we can find something better for you to wear, sir.”

Darad’s huge body had ripped Andor’s garments open, and the shreds were barely decent on Sagorn. They were also soaked in tea and blood. Rap turned to Little Chicken and spoke in goblin. The reply was brief.

“What did he say?” Inos asked.

Rap sighed. “He told me to get it myself. He has very exact ideas of a slave’s duties.”

So Rap ran upstairs and came down with a brown woolen robe. Fleabag, now released, indulged himself in a tour of the room, sniffing vigorously and cleaning up the remains of the food.

The lanky old man stepped into the stairwell for a moment and returned wearing the gown, his dignity restored. He bowed to Aunt Kade and then to Inos. She remembered how he had terrified her at their first meeting, but the glittery eyes and eagle nose held no threat for her now, although she had just witnessed a very obvious sorcery. She wondered if that was because she was older, or whether she was just numb from the daylong battering.

“My sympathies, ma’am,” he said. “Your father was a good friend to me in years past, and I grieve his sad end. I did everything within my skill.”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Sagorn made himself comfortable on a chair next to Kade’s sofa and everyone else sat down, also, with Little Chicken cross-legged on the floor, scowling deeply as he struggled to follow the impish tongue.

“You will want an explanation, I suppose?” the old man asked.

“Please,” Inos said. “That was an unconventional entrance.”

He smiled his thin-lipped grimace at her for a moment. “You are no longer the young lady who panicked at the mention of yellow dragons. Kinvale has done wonders for you. Can Andor claim some of the credit, I wonder?”

He was seeking to dominate her. “The explanation, please?”

“Very well.” He turned to Rap. “Your guess was remarkably close, young man. There are five of us—myself, Andor, Jalon, Darad, and Thinal, whom you have not met. Many, many years ago, we together gave cause for annoyance to a powerful sorcerer. He placed a spell on us, a curse. Only one of us can exist at a time. That is the whole of the matter.”

“But you are different persons?” Rap had always frowned ferociously when thinking hard.

“Quite different. Andor and Thinal were brothers, the rest of us merely friends. We have never met since that terrible evening long ago. We share a single existence and we also share the same memories. How did you escape from the goblins, by the way?”

Rap did not answer that. “A very convenient curse! You appear and disappear at will—”

“No! A terrible curse!” Sagorn glared. “We have been seeking release from it for longer than you would believe. Take Darad, for example. Would you like to be burdened with that man’s memories? Murder and rape? He is a mad dog, crueler than a goblin. And we do not come and go at will, only when called. None of the rest of us likes to call Darad, so it may be years before he exists again—but when he does appear, he will still have a burned back and a cracked head and a sore eye and a ripped arm. I hope none of you is within his reach at that moment.”

“And of course he will not be bound?”

“Not unless whoever calls him is bound.”

They all thought about that for a moment.

“Father said I could trust you,” Inos said, “or sometimes Thinal. Who is Thinal?”

“Thinal? He was our leader.” The old man stretched his bloodless lips in a smile. “Yes, he is trustworthy after a fashion, as long as you have nothing precious around—like a ruby brooch, for example.”

“He stole my brooch?”

“He can climb a blank wall like a fly. He also lifted the hostler’s keys off his belt for Andor. He will oblige in such matters, but he will also steal for sport. As well as being light-fingered, he has a peculiar taste in practical jokes, but he does have a personal rule that he will always call back the one who called him, and we trust him in that sense. I can call any of the others at any time, but I have no control over what that one may do then, or whom he will call next.”

“I find this idea rather confusing, Doctor.” Aunt Kade could always be relied on for a massive understatement when needed. “Tell us how you came and went. My brother sent for you last summer?”

He spoke more respectfully to her, gazing blandly across the debris and ruin. “He did, ma’am, and it was Jalon who received the message. He decided to answer the call and caught a ship for Krasnegar. That was a remarkable success for Jalon—in the past he has been known to take the wrong boat because he thought it had a prettier name. But he managed to reach Krasnegar, went to the king, and called me.”

“But I don’t see how you knew about my dragon silk,” Inos complained.

“Jalon saw it at the gate. I told you, we share memories.” The old man waited a moment, as if she were a slow child, then addressed himself again to Kade. “As soon as I examined Holindarn, I saw that he was not likely to live long. I think he had already guessed that. I needed medicines, so Jalon had to go south again. I am old, you see, and the others are growing concerned about me, so they do the traveling. Jalon decided it would be more romantic to go overland.”

“And that was where I got involved,” Rap said, remembering the picnic in the hills.

Sagorn nodded. “You revealed occult powers to Jalon, and so to all of us. I told you that we have been trying to escape from our curse. We had two ways to try—either we could persuade another sorcerer to lift the spell, or we could seek to learn enough words of power to do it ourselves. I have spent my life in studies to that end, striving to know more of those elusive words.” He smiled his thin, cynical smile. “I was the youngest, once. I was ten. Darad was twelve, I think.”

“But…”

He shrugged. “But I was smart, and Darad was already big, so Thinal let us join his gang. We broke into houses—even then, he was a skilled cat burglar—until we happened to choose the house of a sorcerer. That was not a wise thing to do! I have not seen them since.” He paused, seeming lost in memory for a moment. “Always one of us is, four are not. To live is to age, of course… I have spent so many years in libraries and archives that now I am by far the oldest. Darad almost never gets into trouble he can’t handle, so he rarely has to call for help. He is starting to feel his years, too. Jalon is easily bored, so he soon calls someone else—usually Andor, for some reason. Thinal… Thinal never stays for long. He has hardly changed at all.”

“But you have occult powers of your own,” Inos said. “Did the sorcerer give you those?”

He laughed scornfully. “If you had ever met a sorcerer, you would not ask! No. I doubt that you wish to hear that tale.”

“Please do go on, Doctor,” Aunt Kade said brightly. “This is a most interesting narrative.”

He flashed her a calculating glance. “Very well, your Highness. In Fal Dornin I found a woman of middle years who knew a word of power—a single word. I called Andor.”

“And he charmed it out of her?” Inos asked acidly.

Sagorn smiled his sinister smile, “Seduced it out of her. Of course it affected each of us in turn. I became a better scholar, Jalon a finer singer, and Darad a more deadly fighter. The next time he existed, he went back to Fal Dornin, sought out the woman, and strangled her.”

Inos shuddered. “No! Why?”

“God of Fools!” Rap jumped up and rushed to the door. He pulled the bolt and went racing off down the stairs. Fleabag loped in pursuit.

“Rap!” Inos yelled, too late. Sagorn smiled grimly. “He has gone to bolt the lower doors, I imagine. Master Rap has farsight, you know.”

“Rap does?” Dull old Rap? Solid, ordinary Rap?

He nodded. “To a remarkable degree. That was why Andor went out of his way to befriend him. He must know a word, although he denies it. Either it is a very powerful word, or else—I have been wondering if the words themselves may have different properties, and his happens to fit his native talents particularly well. He has an astounding control over animals and also an astounding farsight. Yet he does not seem to have any foreseeing ability, and certainly his mastery does not work on people, as Andor’s does. So he must know only the one word. Interesting! He has probably seen the soldiers coming.”

Inos had almost forgotten their plight. “That was why we wanted you!” she exclaimed. “How are we going to save Rap and Little Chicken from the imps? What is going to happen when Kalkor gets here? How—”

Sagorn raised a slender, blue-veined hand. “You forget, child, that I know your problems! Andor and Darad were here, so I know. Don’t worry about the imps. Their leader is dead. Tribune Oshinkono is no great warrior. He will have absolutely no desire to tangle with the notorious Kalkor. He and his men will be off down the trail to Pondague long before the jotnar arrive.”

“How…” But of course Sagorn knew all that because Andor had made friends with Yggingi’s deputy on the journey north. Andor made it his business to know everyone. What Andor had known, Sagorn knew. Confusing! “But what about Rap? And what about me having to marry Kalkor?”

“Kalkor I do not recommend!” For the first time the old man looked sympathetic. “Not as bad as Darad, but compared to Kalkor, Yggingi would have made a model husband. He will claim the throne, then force you to marry him to confirm that claim.”

“Then what?” she asked glumly.

He pulled a face, twisting the clefts that flanked his mouth. “Krasnegar would not contain Kalkor for long—roistering and pillage are his bent—but he could keep the title and leave a subordinate here to rule for him. He will beat your word out of you, I expect. Then take a son off you, more than likely. Yes, that would be about his program.”

“And after that?”

Sagorn did not answer but she could guess the answer.

“And after that I shall be of no further use to him!”

The dog came bounding into the room. Inos rose and crossed to the stair, arriving just as Rap came running up, flushed and panting. He slammed the door and shot the bolt. “Should have gone sooner,” he said between puffs. “Only three doors between us and them.”

“Rap,” she asked softly, “what’s this about you having farsight, and magical powers?”

He flinched as if he were a small boy caught with both hands in the molasses, then nodded guiltily.

Puzzled by his reaction, Inos said, “Well, that’s wonderful!” She smiled encouragingly to put him at ease. “Now I know why we never let you join in the hide-and-seek games! I’ve always wondered about your knack for horses—and dogs. I’m not surprised to hear that it’s occult.”

He gaped stupidly at her. “You don’t mind?”

“Mind? Of course not! Why should I mind?” What was it to do with her, except that Rap would make a superb palace hostler when he was older? “I’m supposed to have some magic of my own now, although I don’t know what sort of powers I’m expected to demonstrate. But magically we’re both the same, apparently.”

His big gray eyes blinked several times, then a scarlet tide flowed into his face, and he looked down at his boots. Of course shyness was quite understandable in a boy of his age, with no schooling or training.

She took a quick glance to make sure the others could not hear. “Rap, I didn’t know that Sir—that Andor had made friends with you when he was here before.”

“Well, he did! I didn’t sell him horses in bars—”

“I’m sure you didn’t.” Even to think of Andor still hurt. “But did he ever speak… I mean, you must have talked… Did he ever mention Kinvale, or…” Deep breath. “Did he ever talk about me?”

Rap looked blank. “You mean he knew you before? He told me he didn’t even know where Kinvale was, exactly! And he certainly never told me he’d met you already!” He seemed to be growing angrier and angrier as he spoke.

Relieved, Inos gave him another soothing smile. “Come, then, let’s see what we can do about these imps.” She led him back to the others. Despicable Andor! Why were men all such liars and cheats? So faithless!

She went over to Sagorn, who was making polite conversation with Kade.

“Well,” she demanded. “What are we to do?”

Sagorn scratched his chin thoughtfully. “We have four ways out of this, I think.”

“We do?” Inos found that unbelievable, but he seemed confident, so perhaps the celebrated sage was about to justify his reputation.

“The simplest would require a friendly sorcerer. You don’t happen to have one handy, do you?” He chuckled ponderously, like some wise old grandfather teasing children.

Inos felt a surge of annoyance at the mockery. Rap sensed it, also, and rolled his eyes.

Sagorn saw that and scowled. “Secondly, then, we could hide in the topmost room and trust the aversion spell, but that seems to have worn thin now. So we only have two choices, wouldn’t you say?”

“The Darad man killed the woman in Fal Dornin to strengthen his power?” Aunt Kade asked, and for a moment Inos was baffled.

Sagorn, though, had turned to Kade with surprise and perhaps respect. “Yes. To tell a word weakens it.”

“Halves it?”

“Not necessarily halves it, apparently. It is a great mystery to me why there should be any weakening at all; if you tell your favorite recipe to a friend, that does not spoil the next cake you bake.” He scowled. “Even the most respected texts do not agree! Perhaps the weakening would be a half if you were the only person who knew the word. Would telling to a third person reduce its power by a third? Then by a fourth when you told another? I don’t know, after a lifetime.”

Kade was still blinking at all that as the old man plunged ahead with his lecture, waving a bony finger to make his points as if he had been bottling up his knowledge inside himself for years and welcomed an audience.

“So not necessarily a half. After all, the words have been around a long time, so each may already be known by many people, perhaps dozens. One more person may make no difference or a lot. And how could you compare magic, or weigh it? It must be as hard to measure as beauty. Can you say that Jalon is twice as fine a singer as another, or three times? That a poem is twice as lyrical? But a shared word is weakened—until someone who knows it dies. Then the others' power is strengthened again. That is why they are so rarely shared, why they are usually passed on deathbeds—as your father told you his?” He peered from under shaggy white brows at Inos.

She hesitated and then nodded.

“You must guard it well! You have been displaying remarkable endurance for your age, child. Andor noticed tonight and so did Yggingi. You are of royal blood, and a very determined young lady, but the words have that effect on people, a sort of armor. Of course neither could be certain, but they both assumed that you had been told the word.”

“Everyone seems to have known about it but me!”

“They are always kept secret. I found hints of the Krasnegar word in a very old text. That was why I—actually it was Jalon then, also—why we first came here and met your father. He was still crown prince at the time. He and I became friends and did some journeying together. Knowing that he would inherit a word, I made sure that he met the others, so he would know them if they came after him later. They all felt that I had betrayed them, of course.” He sighed deeply. “It is not only the others' evil memories that are a burden. They have mine, also, and I can keep no secrets from them.”

Inos thought about that. Perhaps it was not so surprising that this strange group of invisible men would strive to be released from their curse.

“But this word of power that you—Andor—learned from the woman in Fal Dornin? It did not break the spell?”

Sagorn stared at the floor sadly, shaking his head. “No. One is not enough. Probably we need three or maybe even four. And, knowing a word, we dared not then approach a sorcerer, for sorcerers are always on the lookout for more power.” He rose stiffly. “The imps will be fetching axes. I am slow on stairs, so perhaps we should begin?”

“Begin what?”

“Begin our climb,” he said. “We must go to the chamber of puissance at the top of the tower.”

“Why?”

He bared irregular old teeth in a triumphant grimace. “To consult the magic casement, of course.”