THE ADVANTAGES AN EARLY THAW

FOUR DAYS LATER, the weather broke.

By that time, Terisa had forced down the pain of Master Eremis' implicit rejection. She continued to function-which meant that she spent as much time as possible with Geraden: talking; trying to understand. Nevertheless the knowledge that she didn't have anything better to do, anything more constructive to offer, wore on her constantly. She couldn't shake free of a grey depression which took the edge off everything she thought and felt; her behaviour resembled her former existence more than anything she had done since she had come to Orison. As a result, her conversations with Geraden were like many of the sessions she had had with Rev Thatcher. But now the underlying futility was on her side rather than on anyone else's.

She had lost her fragile sense of purpose, of direction. The conclusions she was occasionally tempted to draw from the appearance in the Congery's augury of the riders of her dream had never seemed so foolish. She had no reason for being where she was. And she didn't seem able to invent one. The real point of her long conversations with Geraden was not to shed any light into the dark corners of her situation, but rather to keep him with her, so that he wouldn't fade from her life like Master Eremis.

So while snow as sharp and brittle as ice rattled against her windows and lorn wind keened past the edges of the tower and all Orison seemed to fall into a kind of static calm, frozen not by peace but by waiting, she did essentially nothing except eat, sleep, and sit in her rooms, talking with the Apt whenever he got free of his duties.

He brought her news from around Orison. The Masters were involved in a fierce-and apparently endless-debate, trying to decide what to do about their champion-and about their own vulnerability. Castellan Lebbick's guards and every stonemason available were busy using the rubble of the champion's departure to build a wall across the breach in Orison's side. And Argus and Ribuld were doing what they could to keep an eye on the lady Elega.

The rest of the time, Terisa and Geraden talked about their circumstances.

On his side, this meant fighting a steady but subdued, almost covert struggle to raise her spirits. As if he knew that any despondency in him could hurt her, he practised good cheer. As if he knew that the sore places in her weren't ready to be touched, he preserved a tactful emotional distance. As if he knew that she wasn't strong enough to be pushed, he urged nothing. With a delicate gentleness which made his physical mishaps look like they belonged to a completely separate person, he cared for her.

Even though he needed care himself and wasn't getting it. His enemies were as savage as hers, wanted him dead as badly-and for as little reason. But if he was afraid he kept his fear to himself.

At one point, he asked rather wistfully, 'Did you feel anything at the translation point?

Could you tell it was there?'

A touch of cold as thin as a feather and as sharp as steel-That was something she didn't want to talk about; it frightened her too badly. 'It was so cold down there, and I was so scared. Just before those'-she shivered involuntarily-'those men appeared, I seemed to get even colder and scareder.' She already knew that she was never going to mention it to Master Eremis, That's probably all it was.'

He looked at her hard before glancing away.

'What about you?' she countered. That would explain a lot. If you have that kind of talent-and Master Gilbur got a hint of it while he was teaching you-we would at least have an explanation for why you were attacked.'

He rolled his eyes at the ceiling. 'Wouldn't that be fun? I would love an explanation. But all I can remember is thinking that it was a silly idea. I was dragging you and Artagel around in the cold and damp for an empty theory. I didn't even see the translation start.'

She sighed morosely.

Several times, they both recurred to the matter of their strange session with Adept Havelock. 'What was all that about, do you suppose?' he wondered. 'Why did he want to tell you all that? Why those specific details?'

She had no idea. 'He's crazy. Maybe what he calls 'lucidity' just means he's able to put a few sentences together in order.'

But that explanation didn't satisfy either of them. Eventually, an old resolve crumbled, and she found herself telling him about her first night in Orison. She described how Adept Havelock had fetched her to his chamber, what Master Quillon had told her of Mordant's history, and how the Adept had saved her from the man in black.

He listened in mingled astonishment and incomprehension. When she was done, he breathed, They already knew, The first night you were here, they already knew you were in danger. Master Quillon has been busy.' He scowled wryly. 'If you told the rest of the Congery about this, they wouldn't believe it. Master Quillonl Trying to change what happens to anyone?' Then he said more seriously, 'At least now we know who my enemies are. Master Gilbur and arch-Imager Vagel.'

She nodded. She could feel herself sinking deeper into gloom.

He didn't let the idea of his enemies dismay him, however. Smiling, he said, There's one advantage to all this, anyway. Now I know how you feel. You don't understand what everybody thinks you can do. I don't understand why men like that think highly enough of me to consider me worth killing.'

She was too despondent to be amused. 'I want to know whose side Master Quillon and Adept Havelock are on. Not the King's. Not the Congery's. Not Master Gilbur's.' She could have also said. Not Master Eremis'.

How many sides were there?

But that brought them back to their encounter with the Adept -and to the presumed hints hidden in what he had said. Finally, she decided to give up another of her few remaining secrets. She was committed to him-not because she knew what she was doing, but because he was her friend. And Master Eremis didn't want her. There would be no harm in telling Geraden about Myste.

He listened in close silence. As she explained Myste's reasons for going after the champion, he held his head up like a salute,

and tears stood in his eyes. When she was finished, he remained silent for a long moment before murmuring gruffly, 'I always liked her. Of course,' he added, 'I know Elega better. And Torrent is so sweet she makes you want to lie down on the floor for her to stand on so her feet won't get cold. King Joyse doesn't have any unattractive daughters. But Myste-' His voice trailed away.

Begging him not to kill her. Terisa felt like crying herself.

Early in the morning of the fifth day, however, she was awakened from a thin, unrestful sleep by the sound of rain.

Groggy with sleep and surprise, she climbed out of bed and went to the nearest window.

For a moment, she was baffled because she couldn't see any rain. In fact, the sky was completely free of clouds. The early sun cast a genial light over the walls and battlements, and the heavens were a vital blue, shaded closer to purple than azure. The distant hills seemed softer under their thick robes of snow, and the crooked bulk of Orison looked considerably more picturesque than it had the previous day, more like a grand castle in a fairy tale.

Then she realized that the sound came from the melting of the snow.

Water ran thickly from the roofs and towers, streamed off the eaves like a downpour. Already, the courtyard resembled a quagmire: its churned mud lay hidden beneath brown puddles as vast as ponds. Guards and people bustling in and out of the courtyard, to and from the huddled maze of shops and shanties and tents, had to wear cloaks against the run-off and high boots against the standing water; but under the open sky they pushed back their cloaks or doffed them altogether to revel in the new warmth.

The winter had turned to thaw.

A little thrill ran through her as she thought that she might get a chance to go outside for a while. It might be possible to stop feeling depressed for a while.

Hurrying, she went to wash her face and put on her clothes.

She wasn't surprised when Geraden arrived before Saddith had brought her breakfast. His cheeks were flushed with exertion, and he was breathing hard: he must have run up the stairs. At first glance, she thought he was simply eager, caught up in a stronger version of her own reaction. But the way his eyes shone was more complex than that.

'Have you seen it?' he panted as soon as she shut the door. 'Yes.'

They went to the windows together, drawn by the prospect of sun and warmth and springtime after the long, tense winter.

'Glass and splinters,' he muttered while he regained his breath, 'this is awful.' She blinked at him like a startled owl. 'Awful?'

At once, he started laughing. 'Isn't that silly? I feel this eager every spring. Like the whole world is coming back to life. The first thaw always makes me want to go out and play like a boy.

'But it's still awful. Even though I love it.' He tried to sound sombre. Terisa, this is

very bad news.'

His laughter drew a smile from her. 'It's a good thing I've known you so long. If you were a stranger, I would have to assume you've lost your mind. Why is this bad news?'

'You mean, since you know me, you don't have to assume I've lost my mind? You can take it for granted?' He dismissed her protest with a chortle. 'Because it's early. Too early. Right now, winter is about the only thing protecting us. If too much of the snow

melts, there won't be anything to prevent Cadwal and even Alend from marching against us today.

'You heard what the Perdon said. High King Festten has already mustered an army. He can do that because Cadwal gets so much less snow than we do. And you can be sure the Alend Monarch didn't send his son on a mission as dangerous as a visit to Orison without having an army prepared to support or rescue him. Or avenge him.

'We're the only ones who aren't ready,' he continued. 'Oh, I'm sure Castellan Lebbick has done everything he can. But we didn't get ready for war last autumn because King Joyse refused to command it'-now Geraden managed to sound grim-'and we aren't ready now because he hasn't been paying attention all winter. Our only hope has been that the snow would last until he came back to his senses.'

Terisa frowned in an effort to concentrate. 'If they start marching today, who's going to get here first?'

Unable to preserve an appropriately dire expression, he flashed a grin. 'That's complicated. Cadwal is closer, especially if they march up through Perdon from the southwest. Alend's best route comes almost due south through the Care of Armigite. That's nearly twice as far.

'But South Perdon is mostly hills, some of them rugged. Armigite is almost all lowland. To reach us, the High King's army has to cross two rivers, the Vertigon and the Broadwine. The Alends only have to ford the Pestil. And the Perdon will fight Cadwal every step of the way. The Armigite, on the other hand-' Geraden sighed. 'We would be lucky, I guess, if he fired a few catapults at Margonal's army while it went by.'

Although the air outside was obviously much warmer than it had been, it wasn't balmy: when he leaned close to the window, his words left small, brief ovals of condensation on the glass. 'But it's even more complicated than that. How long has Prince Kragen been gone? Six days? I presume he's riding hard, but he won't be able to go very fast. Not even today. This much snow will take days to melt off. So he's still a long way from home. Will the Alend Monarch do anything without him? I don't know.

'Giving you my utmost wisdom'-he grimaced-'I would say at this point anything can happen. With our luck, it probably will.'

'Well, that's all right,' she murmured. ''Anything' is what's been happening ever since I got here.'

He responded with a chuckle and a bow. 'My lady, you have an enviable gift for understatement.' Then he added, 'We're probably lucky. If it stopped happening, we

might get confused.'

'Speak for yourself,' she replied. 'Confusion is my natural state.' She feigned puzzlement. 'Or I think so, anyway.'

He laughed. 'A kindred spirit. No wonder I like you.'

Gazing out at the thaw, he sighed happily, This is really terrible.'

Sometime later, there was a knock on the door.

'I am sorry to be iate, my lady,' Saddith said as she entered the room carrying a large breakfast tray. The guards told me that Apt Geraden was with you-already'-she winked-'so I went back for more food.'

Feeling light-headed and impervious to discomfort because of the thaw, Terisa asked foolishly, 'How is Master Eremis this morning?'

Saddith glanced down at her tight bosom. 'He has been very busy. Or so it is rumoured. But he is well.' When she looked up, her face wore a deliberate veil of blandness; but the corner of her mouth quirked. 'Or so it is rumoured.'

Terisa realized that she didn't feel quite as cheerful as she thought.

Geraden watched her with a quizzical expression; however, he made no comment. He had apparently decided that he didn't want to know what her present relationship with the Master was.

When the maid had left, Terisa tried to recover her good humour by eating a big breakfast. Nevertheless her mood had turned restless. She wanted to do something, wanted to go as far away from this room-and from herself-as she could. Abruptly, she demanded, 'Let's get out of here. Today. This morning.'

He stared at her with his mouth full. ''Get out-'? You already know I can't-'

'I didn't mean that. I meant, out of this room. Out of Orison. Outside.' Trying to make sense, she urged, 'Maybe we could rent some horses. I don't know how to ride-but you could teach me. Anything. I just want to get out for a while.'

He struggled to understand. 'I'll do anything you want. What is 'rent'?'

For no very admirable reason, she thought it might be fun to scream at him. Or maybe

not fun, exactly. Maybe satisfying?

Fortuitously, someone chose that moment to knock at her door. Swallowing her baser impulses, she called, 'Come in.'

On command, a guard opened the door formally and announced, The lady Elega.' Then he stepped aside and bowed the King's eldest daughter into the room.

She was dressed as if for an excursion in a warm, high-collared fur robe and ornately tooled leather boots.

Geraden jumped to his feet. Instinctively, Terisa did the same.

Elega studied both of them. 'I am sorry,' she said with an ironic smile. 'I did not mean to frighten you.'

'Guilty secrets,' Geraden replied promptly. 'You know me, my lady.' His smile was no more innocent than hers. T'm always plotting something.'

The lady measured him with a glance. Then she turned to Terisa. 'Whatever he plots, Terisa,' she said, 'I hope you will not let him entangle you in it. I do not know what he has in mind, of course. But surely he plots in the same way he does everything else.' She grinned around the word: 'Notoriously.'

In response, Geraden bowed. 'You're too kind, my lady.'

Instead of shouting, Cut it out! Terisa asked Elega, 'Would you like some breakfast?'

Thank you, no.' The King's daughter accepted the change of subject smoothly. She comported herself as though she were ready for anything. 'I have breakfasted. What I would like-if it would please you-is to take you shopping.'

Shopping? Terisa gaped helplessly, struck as much by the familiarity of the word as by the strangeness of hearing it from Elega.

'I fear it will not be a very elegant experience. Because of the mud,' explained the lady. 'But this thaw is wonderful. If it lasts as much as a day or two, it will open the roads around Orison enough to permit the merchants to replenish their stores. This late in the winter, the shops have become too depleted to be worth visiting. Now they may be resupplied.

Terisa, I would like to take you to buy cloth and engage a seamster, so that you can have clothes made'-she hesitated almost imperceptibly-'to your own fit and fashion.'

'Clothes?'

'Whatever clothes you like. Of course,' said Elega firmly, 'I will offer you advice as to weather and custom. But what I wish is to help you please yourself.'

'But'-it was the first thought that came to her-'I don't have any money.'

The lady raised a delicate eyebrow in surprise. 'You are a friend of the King's daughter.

Why do you need money?'

Terisa couldn't find the words to protest. Fortunately, Geraden was sensitive to the particular character of her ignorance. The lady Elega is right,' he said, supplying more reassurance than the situation superficially required. 'As long as you're with her, any merchant or artisan in Mordant will give you anything you want. That's one of the privileges of the ruling family.

'It isn't actually fair.' His tone reminded her that most of his friendships were among the workers of Orison, rather than among the lords and ladies. 'But the way King Joyse runs the country puts more wealth back than it takes out, so his privileges don't do any harm.' He seemed to be urging her to accept Elega's offer.

She made an effort to collect her scattered wits. Really, she ought to be accustomed to surprises by now. They were becoming the story of her life. And when she thought about it, she found that she was excited.

'Thanks,' she said to the lady. That sounds like fun. I was just telling Geraden I wanted to get out of this room. I'm about to start screaming.'

Elega smiled. 'I know just what you mean. I have felt that way for years at a time.

When would you like to go?'

Terisa glanced at Geraden; but his features were composed into a neutral mask. 'How about right now?'

That suits me admirably.' Elega looked pleased.

'If you will take my advice from the start, however,' she continued, 'you will change your garments before we go. The seamsters who serve the ladies of Orison are accustomed to gowns. I suspect that they have scant acquaintance with'-she searched for a graceful description-'the styles of your world. If you wear a gown and carry your own

clothing with you, you will be able to leave it for the seamster to use as a pattern. Then they should be able to match it.'

Although Terisa wasn't at all sure that she wanted shirts and pants instead of gowns, Elega's advice seemed too reasonable to ignore. 'Just give me a minute.' From the wardrobe in the bedroom, she quickly fetched her demure grey gown. Then she retreated to the bathroom to change.

'Dress warmly,' Elega called. 'And be prepared for mud.'

As soon as she had worked her way into the gown, Terisa located the thick sheepskin coat and boots which Geraden had supplied for her tour of Orison's battlements. In a few moments, she was ready to go. She carried her old clothes under her coat. Her heart was beating like a schoolgirl's.

'Will you accompany us, Geraden?' inquired Elega. 'I doubt that choosing fabrics and studying styles will be of much interest to you. But it is unwise for ladies to go unescorted to the shops.' To Terisa, she explained, 'Despite Castellan Lebbick's best efforts, the bazaar attracts any number of rude fellows-pickpockets, gypsies, clowns, and ruffians. The guards maintain good order, but they cannot prevent all small crimes.' Then she ad-

dressed Geraden again. 'If you would like an escape from your routine duties, I will be happy to pretend that I have commanded your attendance.'

'Again you are too kind, my lady.' Behind his deference, he was laughing. 'But the King's daughter's pretence is probably as good as a command. I'll go with you, of course.'

Elega smiled at him as though he were an amiable child. Then perhaps you should get a coat.'

He was taken aback: he seemed almost suspicious, as if he thought the lady might have some ulterior motive. He swallowed his concern, however. 'That's a good idea. Which door are you going to use? I'll catch up with you.'

She told him.

Bowing to Terisa, he left.

Brightly, Elega asked, 'Shall we go?'

Terisa wasn't sure what she was doing as she followed the King's daughter out of the

room.

Chatting easily about trivial subjects, Elega led her around through Orison to the northwest end of the castle. Along the way, she spotted Ribuld and Argus: the two guards were loitering in the hall as if they were off watch and had no better use for their time.

Her eagerness began to change colour. What had started as a simple case of spring fever was becoming yet another gambit in the plots and schemes which surrounded Mordant's need,

She accepted this. At the moment, all she really wanted was to get out of her recent depression.

Then she and Elega reached a door which gave access to the courtyard. With its massive timbers and thick iron bolts, it was made to be sealed; but it was open, and its guards stood outside, watching the crowd which spilled out of Orison to swirl and mill around the shops and tents.

Geraden was already there: he had been running again. Now, however, he had a coat to keep him warm.

Just for a second, his face showed a relief he couldn't conceal. Apparently, one of his fears had been proved groundless. Then he greeted the two women with a smile.

Terisa inhaled the spring-like air deeply and plunged with her companions through the downpour from the eaves out into the mud.

Once again, she was struck by the size of the courtyard. Hidden in its own shadow, the eastern edifice of the castle was dark against the fathomless blue sky; but to the west Orison's whole inward face held the sun and reflected the browns and greys of its stones, making the atmosphere around her warmer than the weather. In this light, the erratic pile of the castle seemed protective, rising high on all sides to keep what it enclosed safe. Windows caught the sunlight and flashed; from oriels and poles and projections among the balconies and walkways, clotheslines had been strung, and drying laundry decorated the walls in particolour; up on the towers, pennons made tiny by distance fluttered and gleamed.

The mud wasn't as bad as she had expected. In this end of the courtyard, away from the area where the guards exercised their horses, gravel had been strewn over the dirt. That didn't solve the problem, but it did make the inevitable muck less deep and cloying. The hem of her gown became soaked and stained immediately; but she was able to walk with unanticipated ease.

Doubtless inspired by their own species of spring fever, the people of the courtyard had flung wide the wooden fronts of their shops, decked their tents with ribbons, brought out carts loaded with refreshments which no one would have braved the cold to enjoy yesterday. They had put on their gay clothes and declared the day a spontaneous festival. Terisa heard the music of pipes and lutes punctuated by tambourines. Somewhere, there was probably dancing. Cooking smells and spices followed the tang of wood-smoke which drifted along the slight breeze from tin chimneys in the roofs of wooden structures, from smokeholes at the tops of tents, and from open fires crackling frequently in the gaps between the buildings.

For no reason except that she suddenly felt wonderful, she began laughing.

Geraden shared her mood. And Elega smiled, although the assessing quality of her gaze suggested that her pleasure was more complex. Terisa grinned at both of them and made an effort not to hurry.

'Here!' Passing among the shops and the crowd, Geraden presumed on his apparent stature as a friend of the King's daughter to dash over to a cart and capture some of its wares, which were charred chunks of meat on long cane sticks. 'This is my favourite food in the whole world.' The vendor bowed again and again like a bobbing cork as Geraden carried his booty triumphantly back to Terisa and Elega. 'It's called 'treasure of Domne'. The meat is just lamb, but it's basted with a sauce that will melt your heart.' With a flourish, he offered a stick to each of his companions. 'Eat! And grieve that you weren't born in the Care of Domne.'

'I think,' Elega murmured without malice, 'we would be more likely to grieve if we

were born in the Care of Domne.'

Juice ran down Terisa's chin as she bit into the tender meat. It was spiced like nothing she had ever tasted before. Stale coriander? Cumin that hadn't been stored properly? For Gera-den's sake, she finished the piece she had in her mouth, then tried to think of an excuse not to eat the rest. Luckily, he savoured the treat so much himself that he was temporarily deaf and blind to his companions. Elega deftly handed her stick to the nearest passer-by. After a momentary hesitation, Terisa did the same. A bit self- consciously, she wiped her chin.

She and Elega walked on. The crowd made too much noise for quiet conversation. People were laughing gaily, shouting rowdy encouragements and insults at each other, greeting friends and hawking merchandise. But she didn't want to talk: she wanted to see everything and absorb it all. The loud bustle seemed entirely unlike the frenetic activity of the city streets with which she was familiar. These people weren't thinking about making fortunes or losing their jobs or fighting off muggers or being evicted from their

homes. And they also weren't thinking about war with Cadwal and Alend, the ethics of Imagery, or their King's inexplicable decline. Their minds were on more important things.

Geraden rejoined her, grinning a little foolishly. With Elega, they took the path of least resistance through the throng.

Everything here had been set down or built up unsystemati-cally, without a thought to such questions as ease of access or advantageous display-and with very little concern for sanitation. Apparently, Castellan Lebbick's authority didn't entirely rule this little village which had sprung up to serve the demands of Orison. Rickety wooden buildings that looked too tail for their underpinnings, and too hastily hammered together to be more than semi-permanent, leaned against each other, often making it difficult for prospective buyers to find the entrances to the shops. Some of the tents assertively over-filled the available space, with the result that they couldn't be passed except by squatting under or straddling over the ropes. Cooking fires sent up sparks dangerously close to weathered planks and dry canvas. Terisa was jostled so frequently that she began to be glad she wasn't carrying any money.

Around one corner, she and her companions came upon a mountebank selling nostrums from a brightly painted wagon. His shirt was several sizes too small for him; his trousers, far too large. And both had been worn to tatters. But he had made a virtue of necessity by tying himself up from neck to ankles in ribbons of all colours, so that his tatters looked like a deliberate part of his costume. His moustache was as tangled as his hair, which had the added attraction of being streaked with ash. More ash stained his swarthy skin; his eyes rolled feverishly.

His nostrums were contained in crooked little glass bottles, large and uneven clay pots, and baskets woven of reeds. He advertised them with a high-pitched cry like the whine of a halfwit. If he had worn a red sign around his neck that said charlatan, he would have appeared no less reliable than he did now. Large numbers of people showed interest in his wares; but he didn't seem to have many buyers.

'Where does somebody like that come from?' Terisa asked Elega. 'I can't believe he sells enough to keep himself alive.'

'You have never been beyond the walls of Orison.' The lady's tone and expression were cool: she obviously didn't share Terisa's curiosity. 'Do not let your experiences among us paint a false picture. Away from the Demesne-and, to a lesser extent, from the principal cities of the Cares-Mordant's people include a predictable number of simpletons and gulls. Fellows such as this often live better than you might guess.'

Nevertheless Terisa thought the man was fascinating. In fact, she found him more fascinating than she could explain. Something about the way he rolled his eyes and leered made her suspect that he knew what he was doing-that there was cunning in his performance. Was it all an act? Did he disarm suspicion by making himself so plainly untrustworthy?

Her companions wanted to go on, however. After a moment, she let them draw her away.

Shortly, Elega raised her voice and pointed. 'All the fabric and tailor shops are there. They have been set almost one on top of the other. It is not usually a quiet place. I think they are often more interested in stealing custom from each other than in attracting buyers. But they will restrain themselves as long as I am with you.'

Terisa was tempted to reply, You seem to have that effect on everybody. But she bit her tongue and said nothing,

They passed a cart selling what looked like fried bread. Another offered the sort of trinkets that a guard might buy for a serving-girl. In an open area where no one had yet built a shop or pitched a tent, a juggler in a voluminous black robe handled sharp, silver pieces of metal shaped like stars as if they were plates or ninepins. His robe whipped and spun around him like a whirl of midnight. Then Terisa and her escorts were near enough to the tailors and cloth merchants to see swaths of material draped invitingly out windows and over doors, and to hear men with measuring tapes around their necks and pins stuck in their clothing haggling over the passers-by.

Suddenly, Geraden let out a yelp of surprise and pleasure and took off at a run, splashing mud.

Terisa and Elega stared after him. 'I swear to you, Terisa,' the lady said, 'that man becomes more like a boy every year.' Despite her tone, she looked perplexed-perhaps even a little worried. 'Surely he knows that it is neither courteous nor wise to abandon us?'

Terisa watched him dodging recklessly through the crowd and held her breath, afraid that he would fall. But he didn't. Instead, he came to a stop as suddenly as he had started.

'Let's go see what he's doing.' Without waiting for agreement, she headed in that direction.

Elega sighed audibly and joined her.

Geraden hadn't gone far: they found him with another man who appeared to be

considerably less than delighted by the fact that Geraden had spotted him.

Terisa,' the Apt announced as she and Elega reached him, 'this is my brother Nyle.' Then he began babbling.

'Artagel told me you were here, but I almost didn't believe him. I haven't been able to find you. Where have you been hiding? It's great to see you. Why are you here? The last I heard, you were in Houseldon for the winter. You were trying to talk yourself out of- well, never mind that. Is everyone all right? How is Father? And Tholden? How about-?'

'Let him answer, Geraden,' chided Elega firmly. 'I am sure he did not come out of 'hiding', as you call it, specifically so that you could drive him to distraction.'

With an effort, Geraden cut off his rush of words.

Unabashedly curious, Terisa studied Nyle. She would have known him as Geraden's brother anywhere. He had Geraden's hair and colouring, Geraden's build, only an inch less than Geraden's height. And he would have had Geraden's face, if his features hadn't been set for brooding instead of open-heartedness. He looked like a discontented version of his younger brother, a man whose basically serious nature had curdled.

It was clear that he took no joy in meeting Geraden.

Stiffly, he bowed to the two women. 'My lady Elega.' He and Elega didn't look at each other. 'My lady Terisa. I'm glad to meet you'-Terisa heard no pleasure in his voice-'even though my brother hasn't bothered to introduce us.'

Geraden started to apologize, but Nyle cut him off. 'You haven't been able to find me because I've been busy with my private affairs.' He glared at Geraden, and his tone was acid. 'They don't have anything to do with you, so there's no reason why you should be involved in them.'

'What do you mean, ''private affairs'?' snorted Geraden. 'I'm your brother. You don't have 'private affairs'. Even Stead'- he laughed shortly-'doesn't have private affairs, and he needs them more than you do. Half the husbands in Domne flinch every time he walks into the room. What can you possibly be doing that doesn't involve your own family?'

A muscle in Nyle's cheek twitched; however, he kept the rest of his face still. Turning from Geraden, he bowed again to Terisa and Elega. 'My ladies, I hope you enjoy your outing. We're lucky to have this weather.'

With his shoulders squared and his back rigid, he strode away between the shops.

Terisa shot a look at Geraden. His face was knotted: for an instant, he seemed on the verge of chasing after his brother, shouting something. Then he swung towards Elega. 'My lady'- he bit down to keep his voice steady-'is this your doing?'

She wasn't taken aback by this accusation. Watching Nyle's departing figure vividly, she murmured, 'It may have something to do with me. I should speak to him. Excuse me.'

Pulling up her skirts, she hurried after him.

Geraden moved to follow. Instinctively, Terisa put a hand on his arm. Hadn't she heard Elega mention Nyle once? When was that? Oh, yes. When Elega first took her to meet Myste. Nyle is more to my taste. Geraden looked at her to see why she had restrained him; she asked, 'How could it be her doing?'

Elega caught up with Nyle and stopped him. Their faces couldn't be seen clearly: too many people intervened, moving in both directions. And of course what they said was inaudible.

Distantly, Geraden replied, 'He's been nursing a passion for her for years, but he thinks it's hopeless. He thinks-' He frowned in vexation. 'I don't understand it. He thinks he isn't grand or special enough for her. He hasn't done anything dramatic in the world. He knows she's ambitious, and he's sure she won't have him. I think it galls him that I was the one who was betrothed to her-and I let her get away.

'He told us he was going to stay in Houseldon all winter to talk himself out of asking for her hand.'

'So you think he came to Orison to see if she'll have him?'

Geraden nodded. His face was tight with empathy. 'But I guess he hasn't asked her yet. If he did-and she turned him down- he wouldn't stick around. So she must have done something to hurt him before he got his courage nailed down tightly enough to actually propose. He can't leave because he hasn't done what he came for. But he's in too much pain to do it.

'Blast her.'He glanced at Terisa. 'I'm guessing, of course. But look at them. Whatever it is, she knows what's eating at him.'

The glimpses Terisa caught through the crowd seemed to confirm Geraden's opinion. Elega was talking to Nyle-pleading with him?-as though she knew what to say. And his

answers- brusque as they were-suggested understanding, even approval.

Because she didn't know how to comfort Geraden, Terisa changed the subject. 'What did you think of that mountebank? The man in the ribbons and tatters.'

At first, Nyle and Elega held Geraden's attention. With an effort, however, he dragged his gaze back to Terisa. 'What did you say? I didn't hear you.'

'The mountebank we passed a little while ago. What did you think of him?' 'Think of him'? Nothing special. Why?'

She could see the difference when he actually looked at her. Just curious,' she said casually. 'Something about him-'

Another characteristic of Geraden's that she liked was his willingness to accept her whims. He racked his memory, then said, 'I haven't seen him before. I wonder why. He doesn't look young enough to be new at this.'

'Well, he isn't exactly old,' she began. 'He-' A moment later, the truth struck her.

'He looks familiar.' That was why she found him so interesting. 'I have seen him before.'

Geraden stared at her. 'You what?'

'I've seen him somewhere,' she insisted. 'I'm sure of it. But not like this. He's in disguise.'

'Where was that?' Geraden was instantly ready to believe her. 'Was it the man who attacked you?'

Gart? 'No.' She closed her eyes and tried to calm her excitement. 'It's not him.' But the hints and pieces didn't come together. 'I don't know. Somewhere.' The more she pictured the mountebank, the less familiar he looked. 'I can't remember.'

'Don't try to force it. The quicker you forget about it, the quicker it'll come to you.' Then he added, 'And thanks.'

She shook her head. 'Thanks for what?'

He nodded towards Elega and Nyle. 'I needed the distraction,'

As Terisa looked in that direction, Nyle moved off into the throng and Elega returned to her companions.

Her determined smile and veiled gaze made it clear at once that she had no intention of revealing what had passed between her and Nyle. 'I am sorry I kept you waiting,' she said before either Terisa or Geraden could speak. The best of the cloth shops is just over there. Shall we go?'

Taking their acquiescence for granted, she started towards the shop.

Geraden met Terisa's eyes behind Elega's back and shrugged. The twist of his mouth suggested regret rather than anger. After all, this wasn't his first experience with the King's eldest daughter.

He seemed to know the trick of not being offended by what she did. He and Terisa followed her together.

As they approached the fabric and tailor shops, the noise rose to a din. The merchants there fought over possible customers so aggressively that Terisa would never have considered approaching them if she had been alone. The lady Elega wasn't in the least disconcerted, however. Smiling good-naturedly, she walked into the midst of the shopkeepers and said without raising her voice, 'Good sirs, you do not need this raucous display. You know that I am not persuaded by it.' Her tone was rnild, but sure. 'Perhaps you will indulge me with a bit more moderation.' Almost immediately, quiet spread out around her as people saw who she was and nudged their neighbours.

In response, Elega inclined her head graciously-a gesture which made Geraden roll his eyes. Nevertheless Terisa saw that the deference of the shopkeepers was perfectly serious. The King's daughter's patronage must have been well worth what it cost.

Selecting a shop, Elega sailed towards it as if she were leading a fleet. Like many of the wooden structures, this one was built up a bit so that its flooring didn't rest in the mud. A few apparently reliable steps led to a narrow porch which inspired less confidence; then an open door gave admittance to the small room where the merchant showed his wares.

Most of the room's light came from unglassed windows with their shutters pushed aside; but a brazier in the centre of the floor provided some warmth. Scurrying ahead of Elega, the shopkeeper stationed himself behind a counter and began to murmur obsequious enthusiasm for her presence.

Aside from the brazier and the counter, the room was empty. Bare planking without shelves formed the walls. In fact, there was no cloth to be seen in the shop, apart from the swaths hanging out the windows and over the porch.

Elega greeted this fact with equanimity. 'I see that I have come to the right place.'

The shopkeeper was bold enough to say, 'You have, my lady. All my winter stock is sold. I have nothing left except my samples.'

'I take that as testimony to the quality of your goods.'

He bowed in humble pride. 'But I will have everything you wish as soon as the roads are open,' he added quickly.

'Very good. Let us see your samples.' Elega indicated her companions. The lady Terisa of Morgan needs to improve her wardrobe.'

'At once, my lady.'

From beneath the counter, the man started producing long, thin strips of cloth which he spread out for inspection.

Geraden cleared his throat, 'With your permission, my lady,' he said to Elega, 'I'll leave you for a while. My opinions aren't likely to be much help. And if anybody troubles you while you're choosing cloth or talking to tailors, every merchant in the area will leap to your defence.'

'Leave Nyle alone,' Elega replied by way of assent. 'I think he is in no mood to be pestered by his family today.' Then she chose two or three of the strips and showed them to Terisa. 'What do you think of these?'

Only Terisa noticed the Apt's bow as he left the shop.

Trying to sound casual, she took this opportunity to ask Elega, 'Did you know Nyle was in Orison? Geraden was surprised to hear it.'

'No. Why?' Elega's disinterest was nearly flawless. 'I should have been more surprised than he was. I did not know Nyle was here until we saw him. But I fear I am losing the ability to be surprised by anything the sons of the Domne do.'

Terisa shrugged. 'I just thought you might have seen him around. You mentioned him to me once. I got the impression you liked him.'

'I do.' Elega was better at nonchalance than Terisa was. 'I consider him a friend. And I respect him. He has a-a seriousness of mind?-no, a seriousness of desire-which his brothers apparently lack. It is inconceivable, for instance, that he would spend Geraden's years trying and failing to become an Imager. And it is also inconceivable that he would learn Artagel's skills and then refuse to use them-as Artagel has refused-to rise in command of the King's guards.

There was a time,' she admitted, 'when if he had expressed an interest in my hand I would have taken him as seriously as he took me.' She spoke without any noticeable concern for the shopkeeper's presence. 'Still, I did not know that he had come to Orison. His 'private affairs'-whatever they may be-have nothing to do with me.'

'I was just curious.' Lamely, Terisa turned her attention to the question of fabrics.

Elega proved to have a good eye. The materials she selected for consideration were excellent-some warm twills and light poplins for everyday wear, some fine silks and velvets for formal occasions-and the colours she advised were right for Terisa's hair and eyes and skin. Soon Terisa had the ten samples she liked best arranged in front of her. She was trying to pick one or two (or three?) when Elega said to the shopkeeper, These will be enough at present. As soon as the material arrives, deliver it to Mindlin the seamster. He will tell you how much he needs.'

'Certainly, my lady. With pleasure.' The prospect of supplying enough free cloth to make ten outfits didn't appear to distress him.

Terisa herself was too astonished to protest. Ten new outfits? What was she going to do with ten new outfits?

Elega seemed to enjoy the look on Terisa's face. 'Come,' she said with a smile. 'Mindlin has always made my clothes. I am sure he will be glad to do the same for you.'

'Without question, my lady,' the shopkeeper put in, 'without question. An outstanding choice, if I may say so. Mindlin's work is superb. Superb. I'll provide him with these fabrics the instant they arrive.'

Bestowing a nod, the lady drew Terisa out of the shop.

Mindlin's establishment was nearby. If anything, it was even less elaborate or pretentious than the fabric shop; but Mindlin himself was a tall man with sunken, grey cheeks and an austere manner, and he spoke in a haughty tone which seemed to come out of a different mouth than the subservient words he actually uttered. In fact, the content of his speech was so fawning that even Elega was embarrassed. 'Unfortunately,' she explained to Terisa, 'he has become wealthy on the strength of his reputation as my

seamster.'

Terisa was unable to suppress a grin.

Embarrassment, however, didn't cost Elega her command of the situation. Briskly, she told Mindlin what materials would be supplied to him, and by whom. Then she asked Terisa, 'What would you like?'

For a moment, Terisa's imagination was paralysed. 'I've never had clothes made for me before.'

Then the experience will be good for you,' Elega replied with satisfaction. She thought briefly, then informed Mindlin that the lady Terisa needed two formal gowns, two warm winter gowns, two lighter ones for spring, and-she gave him the bundle of Terisa's old clothes-four outfits made on that unfamiliar pattern, again two for winter and two for spring. She also specified which fabric should be used in each case-a test of memory which would have defeated Terisa.

'But you must choose the details,' she told Terisa, 'unless you wish to abandon yourself to Mindlin's taste. There is no hurry, however, if you are unsure. He will bring you his work well before it is complete, so that it can be fitted properly. You will have that opportunity to discuss the way your skirts hang, or the amount of lace and finery you wish to display, or even'-she indicated ironic tolerance for the foibles of women-'the degree of decolletage that interests you.'

That would be nice,' Terisa said, feeling shy as well as excited.

Then I will leave you in his hands,' Elega announced smoothly. There seemed to be a hint of anticipation in the way she started towards the door.

At the idea of having to face this situation by herself, Terisa went into a schoolgirl's panic. 'Where are you going? Aren't you going to stay with me?'

The lady beamed reassurance. 'I must do a few trifling errands of my own. And I have already tried to make too many of your decisions. I will return-almost at once. If I do not, wait for me here. I will be with you soon.'

Before Terisa could protest further, Elega was gone.

Terisa wanted to run after the lady. She felt suddenly alone in a hostile world. She had so many questions. How was Mindlin going to measure her? Was she expected to disrobe right here in his shop? How could she-?

To make matters worse, the seamster's demeanour changed immediately. His manner became less austere: he even went so far as to attempt a ghastly smile. At the same time, the subservience dropped out of his speech. Holding up her clothes disdainfully, he asked, 'Does my lady seriously intend to wear such garments?'

Reduced by alarm-and by echoes of her father's sarcasm- to feeling like a child, she was on the verge of blurting out, No, of course not, not if you don't think it's a good idea, what do you recommend? Fortunately, she caught herself in time. Really, she ought to be ashamed of herself. Hadn't she already stood up to Castellan Lebbick more than once? And now she was going to let herself be driven to drivel by a seamster!

With a conscious effort, she raised her eyes to meet his; and as she did so her spirits also rose. Smiling, she asked, 'What's wrong with them?'

His expression looked suspiciously like a sneer. They are not flattering, my lady. Not womanly.'

'Do you think so? Where I come from, they're considered'- she rolled the word around in her mouth and realized that she could have fun doing this-'delectable.'

Mindlin seemed shocked. She suspected he was afraid of having misjudged her meekness. The haughtiness in his face came up as the self-assertion in his voice went down. 'As my lady wishes. I will certainly work to the best of my humble abilities to please her.'

There was no question about it: she could have fun doing this. She didn't want to overdo it, however. 'But you're probably right,' she said as though he had persuaded her. 'I don't need four outfits like that. Two should be enough.' In a flash of inspiration, she added, 'Why don't you use the rest of the material to make me two riding habits?'

'''Riding habits'?' Suppressed apoplexy constricted his tone. 'Does my lady intend to go riding? On horseback?'

'Of course,' she answered sweetly. 'Where I come from, all the ladies do it. Don't you know how to make clothes like that?'

He dropped his gaze. 'I am not accustomed to make such garments for women of rank.

But I will do as my lady wishes,'

'Good.' She was starting to feel inordinately proud of herself.

Still studying the floor instead of her face, he said, 'If it pleases my lady, I will take a measure from these'-his fingers twitched her shirt and pants-'and return them to her no

later than this evening. Then, sadly, I must await the arrival of the fabrics in order to serve her. As the lady Elega, my illustrious patroness, has said, the details can be discussed when the work is ready for fitting.'

That's fine,' Terisa pronounced. Then, because she knew she would never be able to stand where she was and keep her composure, she turned to leave. Trying to emulate Elega's regal bearing, she walked out of the shop into the crowds and the sunlight.

If Geraden had been there, she would have burst out laughing: all she needed was someone to share her humour with. But he was nowhere in sight. And Elega, too, didn't appear. The clamour of the merchants had risen to its former pitch. If anyone had called her name, she might not have heard it. The flow of the throng made it easier to move than to stand still, so she let herself be nudged and jostled slowly away from Mindlin's shop.

Before she had gone far enough to consider turning back, she caught a glimpse of Nyle.

He shifted purposefully through the crowd-not hurrying, but also not wasting any time. His path took him out of view again almost immediately; but a moment later he became briefly visible between shops, still heading in the same direction.

On impulse, Terisa started after him.

She would have been hard pressed to account for what she was doing. He was a familiar face, of course; and she didn't like being alone among all these people. Her curiosity about him as Geraden's brother was probably a more fundamental explanation, however. And more fundamental still was her instinctive interest in his purpose. Whatever it was, it was enough to make him snub Geraden. But not Elega.

Was he unaware that Elega plotted to betray his father's best friend?

Quickly, she walked to the shops between which she had just seen him. Taking that narrow lane, she reached the place where he had passed. Almost at once, she spotted him.

He seemed very far away.

She didn't want to call attention to herself by running. At the same time, she didn't want to lose him. After an instant of hesitation, she decided to run.

It was a fortunate decision, despite the fact that it caused her to bump into people and made total strangers mutter curses at her: it enabled her to gain enough ground so that he

didn't vanish when he turned along a row of foodstalls and turned again. She reached the row of stalls barely in time to see him clamber over the ropes and disappear behind a tent which had been pitched much too close to the neighbouring buildings.

She went as far as the tent; then she had to stop. Could she follow him? Her gown and coat would make her awkward over the tentropes. And there appeared to be no exit from where Nyle had gone except around one side of the tent or the other. If he knew of another, she had already lost him. And if he came back while she tried to go after him, he would catch her.

Finally she moved to the opening of the tent and made an effort to wait there inconspicuously, watching both sides.

The tent seemed to be about the size of a comfortable cottage. In a ring around the tentpole, rough tables had been set up in the mud (there was no groundcover), and from these tables a number of men and women sold beads and sequins, shawls and trinkets. None of the people behind the tables were particularly busy; one man called out to Terisa, inviting her in. She ignored him and remained at her post.

Several minutes after she began to feel foolish, but still a minute or two before her stubbornness would have given out, a slight quiver ran through the tent as Nyle returned, pushing himself over the ropes.

With her heart pounding, she ducked partway into the tent to avoid being seen, then turned to watch him, holding herself steady with one hand on the canvas.

His face was focused, intent. Whatever he was doing didn't appear to give him any pleasure: his frown was so deep that it seemed to describe the underlying set of his bones. Nevertheless he was obviously not a man who hesitated simply because he wasn't enjoying himself. Perhaps he didn't expect enjoyment from life.

Without noticing her, he strode off the way he had come.

She was about to go after him when another quiver warned her that someone else was climbing over the tentropes.

She froze in time to get a clear, close look at the man who emerged from the place where Nyle had just been.

It was the mountebank, his ribbons and tatters fluttering extravagantly.

The mountebank?. That was surprising enough: by itself, it would have astounded her. But the fact which stunned her into open-mouthed immobility was that she knew him.

He passed so near to her that she was able to recognize him.

Behind the distracting way he dressed, under the ash which marked his face and hair, he was Prince Kragen. The Alend Contender.

Around her, the whole day shifted. Meanings changed everywhere. It can't be, she protested. I saw him leave. I saw him ride out of Orison with all his men.

But if he wanted to come back secretly, how else could he do it? Pressure filled her throat, rising there until she thought she would choke. How else could he and Elega communicate? How else could they make plans together?

And Nyle was involved with them. Elega had lied to her. Of course she had lied. His private affairs had everything to do with her. No wonder he didn't want to encounter his brother.

He was plotting with Elega and Prince Kragen against the King of Mordant.

And Elega's invitation to Terisa to come here with her wasn't innocent at all. It had nothing to do with any desire for a mere friendly outing. Shopping was just an excuse. Elega was still trying to snare her somehow.

Terisa was so staggered that she didn't notice the black-clad juggler with the sharp silver stars until he began performing directly in front of her, hardly more than twenty feet away.

The midnight whirl of his cloak caught her attention. His stars began to dance in his hands. They cast a glitter of sunshine, lovely and bewitching, as they arced through the air, passing between his fingers like flakes of light. Soon he was surrounded with spangles.

He didn't watch'what he was doing. He had no need to watch: his hands knew their skill. Instead, he regarded Terisa narrowly.

The stars cast a trance. For a moment like the touch of a dream, she saw everything.

Here in the middle of the bazaar, a good distance from the torrents of water pouring off the eaves and roofs of Orison, the mud was beginning to dry under the warmth of the sun and the passage of so many feet. The boots of the men were stained, of course, and the skirts of the women were filthy; but they were no longer clogged in mire.

Nyle had disappeared into the throng in one direction: Prince Kragen would soon be out of sight in the other. As if to balance the scene, however, Geraden and Elega were

approaching from opposite ends of the row of foodstalls.

The sunlight seemed to make the smells from the stalls stronger. Sweets, oils, nuts, pungent meats: they were all part of the arcing dance of the stars.

Elega was apparently looking for someone-maybe for Terisa herself. The way Elega squinted reminded Terisa that sunshine wasn't the lady's natural element, not the kind of illumination which brought out her beauty.

Geraden, on the other hand, had already spotted Terisa. He waved his arm and moved towards her, smiling.

The sky overhead looked as blue as a dream, blue and perfect, the ideal background for the whirl of silver.

But the juggler had a nose like the blade of a hatchet; his teeth were bare in a feral grin. She had the distinct impression that there were scars on his cheeks. His burning yellow eyes were fixed on her-

Then the moment ended, and she didn't see how things happened.

Without forewarning, the stars changed their dance. From the juggler's hands, they began to float straight at her head like bright, metal leaves on a long breeze.

Hardly aware of what she did, she twitched her face away from the first star. The second licked along her cheek.

The rest of them should have hit her. But they were pulled off target when Geraden crashed into the juggler, grappling for his arm.

The juggler delivered a blow with his elbow which crumpled Geraden into the mud. Then his robe swirled aside, and a longsword appeared like a slash of steel fire in his hands.

He sprang at Terisa.

She was already falling backwards, stumbling into the tent.

Everything seemed to go dark. People screamed, cursed. She collided with one of the display tables and overturned it. Someone shrieked, bitten by the juggler's blade. In a flurry of trinkets, she fell past the table and hit the tentpole.

Then she was able to see again.

As black and irresistible as midnight, the juggler came after her, wielding his sword like a flail to clear terrified merchants and shoppers out of his way.

Somehow, she got her legs under her, put the tentpole between her and her attacker.

Then she lost her footing and went down again. 'Gart!' a man barked.

The shout turned the juggler away from her.

'Don't tell me,' drawled Artagel as he sauntered forward, grinning sharply, 'that the High King's Monomach can't find a worthier opponent than an unarmed woman. I've already warned you about that.'

'Do you think yourself worthy?' the man in black hissed like silk. 'I already know you are not.'

Artagel kicked a table aside. Almost in the same motion, he jumped to the attack. Gart wheeled and levelled a blow like the cut of an axe at Terisa.

His swing was hard enough to split her in half. Fortunately, Artagel anticipated Gart's move. He came around the other side of the tentpole in time to parry the blow, save her.

Then he was between her and the High King's Monomach.

The tent was deserted now except for Terisa and the two combatants. Their boots ground beads and lace into the mud as they probed and riposted. Their blades struck sparks from each other, a darkened and baleful version of the sunlit dance of stars. She could hear Artagel's harsh breathing: he sounded like he hadn't fully recovered from the damage to his lungs. Gart's respiration was so firm and even that it made no noise.

Attack. Parry. The clangour of iron.

Artagel had trouble with the tables. They hampered his strokes, interfered with his parries: they caught his feet so that he nearly fell. His movements were tight with strain. Gart, on the other hand, seemed to float among the obstacles as if he had placed them where they were to suit his training and experience.

Bracing herself on the tentpole, Terisa climbed upright. Her hands were slippery with blood. Where had it come from? Probably from her cheek, Artagel was going to get killed because of her. Because of her. She wanted to run away. That was the only thing she could do. If she distracted Gart by running away, Artagel might have a chance. But

the High King's Monomach stayed so close to the opening of the tent that she couldn't escape.

She would have cried out; but the ringing clash of iron and the hoarse rasp of Artagel's breath made every other sound impossible.

As it happened, she didn't need to cry out. Roaring like maddened bulls, Argus and Ribuld charged out of sunlight into the gloom of the tent.

Even if she had known what to watch for, she might not have seen how Gart saved himself. It was too fast. Perhaps he took advantage of the moment their eyes needed to adjust. All she knew was that she heard him snarl as he whirled and met Argus and Ribuld with a blow which somehow forced them to recoil separately, away from each other.

Artagel sprang after him.

Too wild, too desperate. Off balance.

Gart met that onslaught also, caught and held Artagel's blade on his, then slipped it aside and swept his own steel in a slicing cut that laid open Artagel's side and brought blood spurting between his ribs.

Gasping, he staggered to one knee.

That was all the time Ribuld and Argus needed to recover and attack again. Still Gart was too quick for them. Before they could hit him, he leaped from the tentpole-vaulting over the blow Artagel aimed at his legs-and dealt a high cut to the rope which pulled the canvas up the pole.

Then he dived and rolled for the opening, passing as slick as oil between Argus and Ribuld while the tent came down on their heads.

The wet, heavy canvas pushed Terisa into the mud again. She grovelled there, smothering slowly. In her mind Gart's blade hit into Artagel's side and the dark blood flowed. She hardly heard the clamour of the onlookers as the High King's Monomach made his escape.

Roused by the tumult, a number of guards arrived almost immediately. They cut Terisa and Artagel, Argus and Ribuld free. They improvised a litter and raced Artagel towards the nearest physician. They picked up Geraden, chaffed and slapped him back to consciousness. They started a search. Soon Castellan Lebbick came on the scene with reinforcements, organization, and tongue-lashings. The whole bazaar was searched. But

no one found Gart.