The Sword in the Sea - Chapter Eight

'I tell you Ravian, for your own good, let it go!' King Jeniel stormed at his brother.

It was two weeks since Sinur's funeral. Two weeks that Ravian had spent locked in his apartments at the Admiral's Residence washing down cake after cake of hahmah with jug after jug of wine. Every time he had begun to come to his senses, the cold images from that terrible night had begun to fill his mind again, and he had reeled back to the numbing embrace of the only two things that could block them out. This morning though, he had woken with a mental clarity born from cold anger and, without bathing or changing, he had marched unsteadily to the palace and demanded an immediate audience with his brother. Now, thin and filthy but, at least, sober, he stared down the glare of the king.

'I will not,' he declared coldly. 'My wife's murderer is loose in this city and I will have revenge.'

'For the last time, Ravian,' Jeniel insisted. 'Sinur took her own life.'

That was what Ravian had first thought as well. The knife that had opened Sinur's veins lay beside the bed. There were no signs of a struggle and her household staff had heard nothing out of the ordinary. The expression on her face, as he would eternally remember, had been serene and peaceful.

He had wondered why she had done it though, and then it had all begun to come out – reports from Jeniel's spies, confirmation from Karli and the rest of the terrified household staff. Sinur, the Sinur that he had gone to seek reconciliation with that fateful night, had kept an open house of entertainment, hosting parties that would begin after the theatre closed and from which some attendants would only slip away at dawn. The list of names was as long as it was varied – actors, poets, musicians, successful merchants – all linked to his estranged wife. Now Ravian recognised the look in her eyes that had so surprised him the last time he had seen her alive – it was the look of a woman who expected nothing from men except their desire, the same look that he had seen in the eyes of the women he had had in Ezreen.

'I think it just all became too much for her,' Jeniel continued in a gentler tone. 'Her reputation was spreading and it was only a matter of time before news of her activities reached even your ears.'

The king stopped then, embarrassed for his brother.

Yes, thought Ravian, the cuckolded husband was always the last to know, especially when he and his wife hadn't even seen each other for months. He had been made to look a fool in front of the entire city, but that wasn't what was on his mind now.

'But she said she had something important to tell me,' he insisted. 'Why would she suddenly decide to kill herself instead?'

His brother shrugged.

'I don't know,' he replied. 'Maybe she was just making it up to get your attention.'

'No,' said Ravian. 'There was definitely something going on. She started to tell me and then...'

He stopped, remembering the way Sinur had looked at the king and his group on the platform. In his mind's eye, he kept seeing the open window to her bedroom and now an awful suspicion welled up inside him.

'Jeniel,' he said slowly, 'you wouldn't have had anything to do with it would you?'

'What!' Jeniel exploded. 'How dare you! I am your brother!'

'You are also the king!' Ravian roared back at him. 'You can't have been very pleased when you learned that your sister-in-law was a royal...'

'Whore?' his brother finished for him. 'Is that the word you're looking for?'

For a moment, the pair's heavy breathing was the only sound in the otherwise empty audience room.

'By Delikas, you're lucky we're alone, Ravian,' Jeniel finally growled. 'If you'd made that accusation in front of anyone I would have beheaded you myself.'

'I'm sorry,' Ravian said, his anger evaporating.

There was another long pause before his brother spoke.

'All right,' he finally said. 'I forgive you. It can't be easy for a man to go through what you have. Watch your tongue in future though, Brother. I need to know that you're watching my back, not looking to sink a knife into it.'

The Ravian that returned to the fleet a few days later was a different man to the one that his captains had known before, a new admiral who drove his men with a joyless intensity that demanded respect but fostered little love. Capernal and Godart would sometimes despair of Ravian ever being satisfied with their performances, Lederalus and Aphorstra came to dread his incessant demands for faster production of swordships, and every man in the Army and Navy knew that – if a disciplinary action reached the level where Prince Ravian was judge – the penalties handed down would be swift and harsh.

In the evenings, and when not at sea, Ravian would retire alone to his quarters at the Admiral's Residence, there to pore over maps, schedules, inventories and intelligence reports until the early hours. Tarcun society saw him not at all, the palace infrequently. His family had been concerned for his state of mind after Sinur's suicide but this new, cold, unapproachable Ravian was not what they had expected.

Then, after Ravian had been a recluse for almost six months, an interesting arrival in the harbour caught the attention of the entire city.

It was shortly following the peaceful death of the ageing King Saravar of Ezreen. Indeed, Jeniel, Ravian and Ramus had only recently attended the monarch's funeral and Prince Beneen's subsequent coronation. The three brothers had been sorry to see the passing of Saravar – a good man and a good friend to Tarcus – but they knew that the throne of Ezreen was safe with their likeable "cousin".

Ravian was working in his office at the Admiral's Residence the day the unusual ship arrived. Normally, he would not have been aware of anything out of the ordinary, but a blast of horns from the harbour below caught his ear and he strode out onto a cliff-edge parapet that looked down into the bay.

A curvaceous, high-stemmed, Eastern-style vessel was rowing slowly into the harbour. In the mid-afternoon sun, it seemed that the entire craft was made of gold as her gilded top decks sparkling against the deep blue water. A group of musicians clustered at the bow, the sound of their horns ringing around the crater and ensuring that every citizen of the White City was conscious of the arrival.

How odd, Ravian thought. Jeniel usually let him know if he was to expect any foreign dignitaries in order that he could pay the appropriate marks of respect from the navy. Clearly, this was an important arrival, yet his brother had given him no warning.

Ravian shrugged.

If Jeniel had slipped up on this one, that was his concern, he thought. All the same, he summoned one of his guards.

'Go down and see what all that noise is about,' he ordered his man.

The man doubled off and Ravian returned to the intelligence report he had just received from the North.

It was more of the same. Bordwar and his allies were continuing their build-up of warships in the far north of the Grimspot Gris. The Dekanian king continued to maintain a vicelike grip on his alliance though, thankfully, no new members had joined. Everything continued to point to an invasion of Tarcus in the next year.

Ravian was deep in thought, considering at what point he would recommend to Jeniel that he generally mobilise, when his guard returned. The prince had quite forgotten the golden ship and the mission he had sent the man on.

'A most wonderful sight, Sir,' the wide-eyed man reported. 'The whole boat is covered in gold leaf.'

'I could see that from my balcony, you numbskull,' growled Ravian. 'Where is she from? Who is on board?'

In his excitement, the young guard was not as cowed by his admiral's irritability as he might normally have been.

'She's come from Ezreen, Sir,' he said excitedly. 'After she had come alongside, they craned across a gangway you could ride a chariot over and then this procession started – giant Southerners blowing their horns, dancing girls – quite a sight as I said, Sir. Then, this covered litter comes down the gangway on the shoulders of four of the biggest, blackest Southerners I've ever seen. Those men were wearing so much gold that, had they fallen into the tide, they would have gone straight to the bottom. Anyway, I could only see the silhouette of the occupant of the litter but it was certainly that of a woman. A queen or a princess of some sort, I suppose.'

'What do you mean, you suppose? You were supposed to find out!' Ravian barked.

The guard had been in the Admiral's Residence for over a year and was more used to Ravian than most. He knew that, as long as he had done his job to the best of his ability, he had no need to fear the admiral's bark.

'That's the thing, Sir,' he replied. 'Nobody knows.'

'Did you not think to ask anyone at the palace?' Ravian asked acidly.

'They didn't go to the palace, Sir,' the guard said, trying not to smirk. 'The whole procession marched up to the big house just up the road from here – the place they call the House of Palms. They are still unloading the vessel and everything is being hauled up the hill and taken there.'

Ravian knew the house, a handsome residence standing amidst beautiful, landscaped gardens. Named for the towering palm trees that framed it so gracefully, it was one of the most imposing buildings on the Western Arm, but it had stood empty for some months.

'Surely someone must know something about it?' he growled.

'Well, Sir, I did spot a well-to-do citizen waiting at the door to hand over the keys,' said the guard, looking pleased with himself. 'Once he came out of the gate, I approached him and told him on whose business I was. He said that he was just an agent and didn't know who the woman was either. All he knew was that he had sold the house to a representative of King Saravar a few months ago and that, as part of the deal, he was to maintain the house and grounds until the resident turned up. He received a message last week to say that the new owner was on her way and that he would certainly know when she arrived.'

'He would have to be deaf and blind not to,' grumbled Ravian. 'I'm sure that even Kanavas heard her entrance.'

Gruffly commending the guard for his initiative, Ravian sent him back to his post. Ambassador, wealthy relative or businesswoman, it made no difference to Ravian who his new neighbour was. He returned to his work and forgot about her.

Two days later, he met with Jeniel at the palace to discuss the further developments in the North and the rate of preparation of their defences. As Ravian was about to leave, his brother casually enquired if he had made the acquaintance of the House of Palms' new owner.

'No,' replied Ravian. 'All I know is that the building was acquired by Saravar some time ago.'

'That's all anyone seems to know,' said Jeniel. 'I can't understand why the old boy was so secretive about it. Anyway, Ravian, if you bothered to indulge in society, you would realise that the whole city is abuzz with rumours and gossip about your new neighbour. I must confess that, under savage pressure from your sisters-in-law, I've had to send a message off to Beneen to ask just who this woman is.'

Ravian smiled, something he did rarely these days.

It was typical of Tarcus that even its ruler didn't know who the new arrival was, the trading nation having a respect for capital that sometimes seemed to transcend its sovereign interests. The house had been bought and paid for with solid gold, taxes had, no doubt, been collected on the importation of the new owner's possessions and her vessel lay in the harbour generating mooring fees. As far as anyone knew, a squad of Ezrenian assassins might well be training within the walls of the House of Palms but, as long as the owner had paid her dues, not even the king was prepared to make an overt invasion of her privacy.

'Oh well,' he replied, without any real interest, 'I suppose we'll all know in a week or so then.'

Ravian didn't have to wait that long however. That evening, as he prepared to dine – alone, as was his habit – one of his servants came to him with a bemused expression on his face.

'Your Highness,' his man announced. 'There is an Ezrenian gentleman at the door who has requested that he be allowed to hand you a message. He says that he has come from the House of Palms.'

'Very well,' said Ravian, slightly irritated that his dinner was to be delayed. 'Show him in, please.'

The Ezrenian was an impressive character. Dressed in a white turban, vest and loose pants, he towered over the Tarcun prince and, as he bowed, Ravian had the thought that the man's massive shoulders could easily rip an enemy in two.

'Good evening, Your Highness,' he rumbled in a deep, bass voice. 'My mistress has asked that I deliver this to you personally.'

He handed over a parchment note, folded and sealed with wax. Ravian turned his back on the man, broke the seal and read the elegant handwriting inside, a pleasant scent of sandalwood wafting to his nostrils as he did so.

'Your Highness,

Please forgive the lateness of this invitation but I have only just now finished getting my new household in order.

It would please me greatly if you were able to dine with me tonight.

If you are unable to attend, please advise Terim. If you are inclined to share a meal with me, please return with him.

B'

'And you are Terim?' Ravian asked, turning back to the messenger.

The big man bowed again.

'Indeed I am, Sir,' he replied in flawless Chesa. 'Will you be accompanying me?'

Why not, thought Ravian. At least he would be the first person in the kingdom to know who the mysterious lady of the house was. He followed the huge Ezrenian past the mystified guard at his door and out into the lane.

'And your mistress's name is…?' Ravian probed.

Terim smiled, his teeth very white in the warm twilight.

'I believe that my mistress wishes to introduce herself,' was all he said.

It was only a short walk to the house.

At the property's gate, two Ezrenian sentries, both fully as large as Terim, bowed deeply. Ravian and his escort followed a torch-lit path to the house's front entrance, also guarded by two turbaned guards, where Terim rapped on the door, the sound booming in the still air. It was opened almost immediately by a girl dressed in a veil and a flowing silk robe.

'His Highness, Prince Ravian,' announced Terim, bowing Ravian into the house, but remaining where he was.

The girl also bowed deeply, hands together in front of her, and stepped aside as he entered.

Inside, what would once have been the entrance hall to the home of a wealthy Tarcun merchant had been transformed into an eastern palace. Beautiful carpets hung from the walls and covered the floors, huge mirrors gleamed in a blaze of torchlight, and the hall was filled with graceful potted plants, stands of peacock feathers and the like. Ravian was particularly intrigued by a stuffed and mounted cheetah that stood guarding the stairs to the upper level.

'The mistress's pet,' the girl explained, as she led him past the beautifully preserved animal. 'She was heart-broken when he died.'

Ravian smelled the spicy aroma of eastern cooking and, as his mind went back to the sumptuous meals he had enjoyed as a guest of the palace at Ezreen, his stomach rumbled. A year of simple meals at the Admiral's Residence had seen him forget the pleasure of eating.

The girl opened some ornate double doors and ushered him into what was obviously the dining room. Here, the wall hangings and carpets were even more sumptuous than those in the entrance hall, large and luxuriously bolstered couches filled the room with their massive presence, and he could faintly hear a small band playing the exciting, pulsating music of the East.

'His Highness, Prince Ravian, Mistress,' said the girl from behind him and he heard the door close as she left.

A veiled woman rose gracefully from one of the couches and, as she crossed the floor to him, the prince sensed something familiar about her – something in the way her hips undulated as she flowed towards him.

'Your Highness,' the voice was pure velvet – lightly accented. 'Welcome to my home. I hope that you will make it yours whenever you choose.'

It was, Ravian knew, a traditional Ezrenian welcome. The way the woman said it though – and the knowing boldness of her dark eyes above the veil –seemed to give it special meaning. She extended a hand to him and, as he took it, he thrilled involuntarily at the warm softness of her touch.

'And whom do I have the honour of addressing?' he asked.

'My name is Belice,' she replied. 'Please, do come and sit down. We have a little while before the meal is served. Perhaps you would like some wine?'

He sat down self-consciously on a couch opposite hers. She reclined easily, tucking her feet beneath her, clearly not overawed by the presence of royalty in her dining room.

'Surely we have met before?' he asked, raising his glass to her and taking a careful sip. The wine was excellent.

Her head tilted back and she laughed musically, the points of her breasts dancing distractingly beneath the sheer fabric of her gown.

'Indeed we have, Your Highness – at King Saravar's palace. I should have been quite heart-broken had you forgotten me, even if we were never formally introduced.'

Ravian' jaw dropped.

'Of course! Belice!' he exclaimed. 'You're the king's dancer!'

He had never since wanted a woman in the same way as he had wanted her that magical night.

'Well done, Your Highness,' she said with slightly mocking tone.

She took a sip of her wine.

'Mind you,' she said, her eyes big and knowing over the top of the veil, 'I would have thought that, considering your condition that evening, one veiled woman would have looked the same as another.'

They both knew that nothing could be further from the truth, yet the mildly flirtatious remark disturbed Ravian. He had been celibate since Sinur's death and, having largely avoided the company of women, his confidence in their presence had diminished considerably.

'Not at all,' he said, and then brusquely changed the subject. 'May I ask what brings you to the White City, Belice?'

Again, her knowing look disturbed him. She was well aware of how ill at ease he was, he thought, and of the effect that she was having on him.

'Why – you, Your Highness,' she said.

Ravian was dumbfounded for a moment.

'I…beg your pardon?' he finally sputtered.

'No one told me you were hard of hearing, Your Highness – but I'll repeat myself. I…' she spoke very slowly and deliberately, pointing first to herself and then to him, ���have…come…here…for…you!'

'What on earth do you mean?' Ravian demanded, knowing, even as he said the words, precisely what she meant.

'I am here as a final gift from your uncle, King Saravar, who has taken his place in the halls of Bhana,' she announced. 'He must have loved you very much, because I was his most treasured possession.'

Ravian was on his feet, blushing furiously.

'Then Saravar has made a mistake,' he said angrily. 'I do not keep slaves – and I do not retain concubines!'

Belice remained seated.

'No, Your Highness,' she replied calmly. 'There is no mistake and I am no slave – the king gave me my freedom before his death. Not only that, but he presented me with the title to this house, the ship in the harbour, my own slaves, and all the pretty things that you see about you. He has bequeathed me a fortune beyond the wildest dreams of most mortals and I am free to go wherever in the world I choose. As for being a concubine – ha! I was never a mere concubine, as you saw yourself.'

'But, if you are free, how can you be given as a gift?' asked Ravian, still struggling to understand what she was telling him.

'You must understand, Your Highness,' she said, 'that as the king's favourite…um… companion, things would not have been comfortable for me in the palace after his death. King Beneen is a wonderful man, but that gang of harpies who are his stepmothers bears the most spiteful feelings for me and, really, who can blame them. King Saravar knew that he was dying and that I would be at risk after his passing, so he made sure that I was provided for. He summoned me to his deathbed, told me of his gifts to me and then asked, as a final favour to him, if I would consider the possibility of becoming your mistress.'

'What?!' exploded Ravian, sitting down heavily.

'Why, Prince Ravian,' Belice laughed. 'I really am becoming most concerned about your hearing. Do I have to repeat everything I say?'

'King Saravar,' she continued, 'was a wonderful man and he loved me very much. He wanted to see me cared for once he had gone and he was just as concerned about you. "My agents have bought a house in Tarcus", he told me, "right next door to young Ravian's residence". He felt that you needed a woman in your life again – and he understood that I would need a man in mine. "Go and have a look at him", he told me. "He's a good man, if a little hot-tempered and impetuous at times. If you don't like the look of him, you can always sell up and move on".'

'You…discussed...my circumstances?' Ravian asked incredulously. He still could not believe his ears.

'Oh yes,' she admitted. 'And don't forget that I saw a little of you when you visited the palace – possibly more than you realised on most occasions.'

Ravian gaped.

'I was always close by the king's side,' she explained. 'All those secret meetings and conversations – my ears and eyes were never too far away. Anyway, I didn't find what I saw or heard of you too off-putting, so here I am – although I am beginning to wonder about my judgement now.'

Ravian rose to his feet again.

'Well, your judgement has, indeed, let you down, Madam,' he said haughtily. 'Whatever the norm may be in Ezreen, I can assure you that I am not going to be appraised and found a mate for like some prize bull! I suggest that you market this property immediately and move on to your next destination at your earliest convenience!'

Belice remained reclining on the couch, her eyes dancing with humour.

'How fiery! How noble! How passionate!' she exclaimed. 'No, I think that my judgement was right, after all – you just need a bit of that stiffness taken out of you. I believe that I'll stay here for a while and give you the chance to reconsider the situation.'

'There is nothing to consider in the first place, let alone reconsider!' Ravian stormed as he wheeled to leave the room. 'You will be on your way in two days!'

'Oh no, Your Highness,' she called after him. 'I think that I'm going to be here a lot longer than that.'

We'll see about that, he thought, as he marched back to his residence. He would see Jeniel tomorrow and have the woman expelled!

Despite the tears rolling down his cheeks, Jeniel was far from sympathetic to Ravian's plight.

The tears were tears of laughter, accompanied by roars of mirth.

'Now, let me get this right, Brother,' he said when he had controlled himself enough to speak. 'King Saravar's favourite consort, endowed now with freedom, wealth and property, approaches you to make her your mistress and you take offence?'

Ravian didn't reply. His brother's laughter would have drowned out anything he said anyway.

'By Delikas,' the king chortled, 'I always knew that old Uncle Saravar had a soft spot for you, but I didn't realise he loved you that much!'

'I saw her dance once myself, you know,' he continued, conspiratorially lowering his voice out of respect to Queen Kasanda, who was in the next room. 'There isn't a normal man alive who wouldn't cut off one of his hands just to touch her with the other. Tell me, what does she look like without that veil?'

'I don't know and I don't care,' said Ravian. 'I want you to pack her on her way!'

Jeniel sobered slightly.

'Actually, Ravian, I don't think that I can do that. She has legal title to the property and she isn't breaking any laws that I am aware of, so there is no good reason that I can think of for her residency to be terminated. Besides…' the king leaned closer to his brother and lowered his voice, '…if word got out that you had turned down one of the most famous beauties in the Sapphire Sea, it might give credence to some of those rumours.'

'What rumours?' Ravian demanded.

'You know…'

Jeniel jerked his thumb rudely upwards.

'What!?!' Ravian exploded.

'I'm afraid so, Old Boy,' the king confirmed. 'You can't live out on the Western Arm for a year, with no one but a bunch of young sailors for company, without someone starting to spread malicious stories.'

Ravian returned to the Admiral's Residence in a daze.

On the one hand, Belice was assessing him like some stud animal and, on the other, he was apparently suspected of being a homosexual!

That evening, Terim again brought a note to his door.

'Dear Prince Ravian,

A sumptuous feast awaits you at my house.

If you would do me the honour of dining with me, please accompany Terim as you did last night.

Your servant,

Belice'

'Please tell your mistress…' began Ravian and then thought better of it.

Instead, he scribbled a note of his own for the Ezrenian to return to Belice.

'Madam,

I will not be attending any of your dinners.

I recommend that you seek a more social climate.

Ravian'

Despite Ravian's repeated refusals, Terim returned each night with a similar invitation. Even when the prince escaped to sea for a week, on the first night of his return, the big Ezrenian was, again, at his door.

'I wonder if I could talk Jeniel into having her expelled for this harassment?' he wondered, as he headed to another meeting with the king the next day.

He was just leaving the palace after the meeting when he saw Princess Verene bearing down on him.

'All right, Brother-in-law, tell me everything,' Ramus's wife demanded.

Ravian, who had always liked and trusted his sister-in-law, gave her the facts of the matter.

'And now,' he raged, 'it seems that I can't do anything about it without confirming some suspicions that I might be inclined to "polish the golden boom"!'

Verene was silent for a moment, then, a mischievous gleam appeared in her eye.

'There is one thing you could do,' she said.

'Yes?'

'You could let her have her way, make sure that everyone knows, and then be such a bore that she loses interest and leaves. That shouldn't be too hard for you, My Dear.'

Despite himself, Ravian smiled. It had taken a while, but his sense of humour was slowly returning.

'That would take far too long,' he said. 'Besides, who's to say she wouldn't like a man who behaved badly?'

'Oh well,' said Verene off-handedly, 'it's certainly up to you. I must say that, if I was a man who had spent the amount of time on my own that you have, I'd be scared of a woman like Belice too.'

'You think I'm scared of her?' Ravian bridled.

Verene looked at him affectionately and placed a caring hand on his arm.

'I don't know what to think of you, My Pet,' she said, 'but Belice isn't the only one who is playing a game here. After all, if you really wanted to stop this, you could just have her servant – and these invitations – barred from your residence.'

On his way back to the Admiral's Residence, Ravian decided that Verene was right. Well then, he would just order the guards to keep Terim off his property!

Yet, he never gave the order and, disturbingly, he realised that he would be disappointed if Belice's man did not come.

That evening though, Terim arrived with a note quite different from the previous invitations.

'Dear Prince Ravian,

I am sorry if I have offended you.

I assure you that my respect for you has only increased with each day that I have been in your country.

As a mark of this respect, I will follow your wishes. I will be leaving Tarcus tomorrow and my property here will be sold. You need never see me again.

However, there is something that I must show you before I leave. If you would return to my house with Terim tonight, I would be most grateful.

Your servant,

Belice'

The note aroused a storm of conflicting emotions in Ravian.

'Your mistress is really leaving Tarcus?' he asked Terim.

'You can come back with me and see for yourself, Your Highness,' the man replied. 'Most of her effects are already boxed up and ready to go aboard her ship.'

'Very well, then,' Ravian decided. 'I will return with you.'

As they walked the lane to the House of Palms, Ravian was, again, struck by the powerful aura of the huge man beside him.

'You look like you would be a handy man in a fight,' he remarked conversationally. 'How does a soldier like you wind up as a bodyguard for someone like your mistress? Surely you are not her slave?'

'I, like the rest of her bodyguard, was freed by my mistress, Your Highness,' Terim said proudly. 'All of us consider it an honour to stay in her service and, if necessary, to lay our lives down for her. In that respect, I suppose we are, indeed, still our lady's slaves.'

'Well said,' Ravian commended him, 'but surely you realise that you have effectively followed her into exile. What about your families back home?'

Terim stopped and turned to him just short of the hearing of the sentries at Belice's gate.

'Your Highness, may I speak frankly?' he rumbled in smooth Chesa.

Ravian nodded.

'I think that you do my lady a disservice,' Terim told him. 'When she was the companion of King Saravar, she was a lot more than just his dancer. As long as she had his ear, she never allowed him to forget the plight of the poor, the sick, or the other needy of Ezreen – particularly the children – and the orphanages and hospitals that the king built were because of her. The people of my country knew that and they loved her for her intercessions on their behalf, which is yet another reason why the queens were all so jealous of her. I, and all her staff here, have family who have benefited, nay, who have been saved, by her good work. So, you see, we have a duty to our families to look after her now that she is alone.'

'Hmmm, I begin to see why you have such loyalty to her,' said Ravian thoughtfully.

'Indeed, Your Highness,' Terim declared, towering above Ravian in the night. 'I have more respect for her than any man I ever served. There have been some who have not shared my respect – and I have helped a good many of them on their way to Heaven. Of course, sometimes the lady herself extends her protection to disrespectful persons who would, otherwise, know the edge of my sword.'

'Yes, I think I see,' said Ravian, too distracted by Terim's revelation of the other side of Belice to take any real offence at his implied threat.

They walked to the door of the house and, once more, the household maid showed Ravian alone into the dining room. Certainly, all the wall hangings and effects in the entrance hall had disappeared, apparently into the large boxes that were stacked along its walls. The dining room, however, was exactly as he had last seen it.

Belice rose and approached him across the floor, her silk robe caressing her body in the soft light.

'Prince Ravian,' she said demurely, taking him by the hand and leading him to a couch. 'I must thank you for coming. As you can see, I have respected your wishes and will depart tomorrow.'

Sitting down beside her, Ravian suddenly realised that he wasn't ready for her to leave.

'Where will you go?' he asked. 'Surely you are better off here than anywhere else?'

She looked down, her eyes sad above the veil.

'I must admit, Your Highness, that the White City is lovely,' she said, 'and that it suits me very well. But there was really only one reason for me to be here and, as that is not to be, then I really need to move on.'

'It's your decision, I suppose,' said Ravian carefully, 'but don't let this silly business between you and I be too much of a factor in it. I…uh…I could become used to having you as a neighbour.'

She looked at him directly then, and he thought he saw laughter dancing in her dark eyes.

'Your Highness is too kind,' she said, 'but, no, I think that my mind is made up.'

'Please stay.'

The words were out before Ravian even realised that he was going to say them. Belice's eyes became soft and shiny and he was sure that she smiled behind the veil.

'You are most forgiving, Your Highness,' she said, 'and I will consider your invitation carefully, really I will. But I forget myself. You have come here at my request so that I can show you something you need to see.'

'Oh…ah…yes,' Ravian said stupidly.

Damn, he thought to himself. What could he possibly do to change her mind about leaving?

'Your Highness,' she said, leaning confidentially towards him so that she filled his senses, 'what I have to show you is a great secret that has been known by none bar King Saravar for the last ten years. His last request to me was that I reveal it to you. Would you like to see?'

Ravian nodded.

Slowly, deliberately, Belice reached up and, detaching one side of her veil, let it swing aside.

The Tarcun prince found himself staring into the most beautiful face he had ever seen.