AT LEAST ONE PLOT DISCOVERED

'NYLE,' THE PRINCE said,

Geraden's brother returned the greeting. 'My lord Prince.'

Terisa could hear them perfectly. It was astonishing how well the cold and the ravine- wall brought the sound up to her.

'I hope you were not kept waiting long.' 'Just long enough to build a fire.'

Like his men, Prince Kragen was wrapped in a white robe, with boots of white fur on his feet and a white fur cap on his head, using the winter itself for concealment. At first glance, Nyle's black-brown garb, his half-cloak and leggings, looked like a bad choice by comparison. But his clothes were indistinguishable from the colours of the driftwood in the ravine, the dark trunks of the trees. If he stood still, no one would see him.

'What news do you have of Orison?' 'What's the news of Alend, my lord Prince?'

A fringe of black hair showed around the rim of Prince Kragen's cap, hair as black as his eyes. He studied Nyle for a moment, then turned to his men and gave them a gesture which set them in motion. Two of them went in opposite directions to keep watch up and down the ravine. The third began to unpack bundles tied to the back of his saddle.

A bit sadly, Prince Kragen commented, 'You still do not really trust me, do you, Nyle?' 'Yes and no, my  lord Prince.' Nyle's voice emerged from a clenched throat. 'I'm

committed to you. But we're traditional enemies. That's hard to forget.'

At Terisa's side, Geraden picked up a handful of snow and rubbed it across his face to cool a reckless inner fire.

'I understand,' replied the Prince evenly. 'But I am more at risk here. You can ride back to Orison and resume your life. As soon as we separate, you are innocent. If I am caught, Castellan Lebbick might have me executed before anybody can explain to him that killing foreign princes is rarely wise. 'What news do you have of Orison?'

Argus turned away. Ribuld hissed at him for silence; he ignored the warning and began to pick his way back down the slope. Fortunately, the wall cut off the noise he made. Grudgingly, Nyle answered, 'Elega is in trouble.' Prince Kragen flashed a glance. 'What trouble?' 'For some reason-I don't know how-that woman Terisa of Morgan decided you and Elega are plotting against the King. She convinced my brother Geraden. And he convinced the Tor. 'I told you the Tor has set himself up as some kind of chancellor. He issues orders as if he has the King's authority behind him, and no one questions him. It might be true. After all, he is the Tor-the lord who gave King Joyse his start.' 'He is also,' the Prince put in, 'a drunken fool.' 'He is. That's probably why he believed Geraden. There aren't many people left who can muster that much optimism.'

Geraden heard this with a grimace which reminded Terisa of Artagel's fighting grin. 'And what trouble has this drunken fool caused for the lady Elega?' pursued Prince

Kragen.

'He told her he knows what she's doing. Then he went off on a long lecture about the loyalty children owe their parents.' Nyle shrugged. 'She says it wasn't much. She gave him a piece of her mind and left him looking-she says he looked ''cowed'. And she says he won't be able to interfere with her part of your plan. I'm not so sure. All he has to do is drop a few hints to Lebbick, and she won't be able to take a step without half the guards in Orison watching her.'

'I see.' Prince Kragen thought for a moment. 'I regret that she is at hazard. But she has assured me many times that her role is secure-and she is a woman who conveys conviction.' In a decisive tone, he concluded, 'We must trust that she will do what she has said.'

Nyle's voice sounded like he had both fists knotted around it. 'I'm still waiting to hear exactly what that is.'

The Prince stiffened. With misleading casualness, he said, 'My lord Prince.' 'My lord Prince.'

Prince Kragen's nod advised, Remember it. His mouth commented, The lady Elega's safety and success depend upon secrecy.'

Then maybe you'll tell me the news of Alend. My lord Prince.' Nyle's anger was controlled, but unmistakable. 'Maybe you'll tell me why we had to meet today. Not sooner. Not later. All I've had so far are assurances and rhetoric. Maybe you'll tell me what's going on.'

Geraden bobbed his head in approval. 'Good,' he breathed. 'Make him tell you what's going on.'

Ribuld glowered at the Apt for speaking.

'In a moment.' Prince Kragen's composure was equal to the occasion. 'I will answer a number of your questions in a moment. First, however, I prefer to tell you what I want you to do.'

Nyle still had his back to the eavesdroppers: Terisa couldn't see his face. But his shoulders hunched as though he were strangling things inside himself.

'I asked you to meet me here on this particular day,' the Prince said steadily, 'and I asked you to be prepared to leave Orison, because I want you to ride to Perdon. I want you to find the Perdon and offer him the kingship of Mordant.'

Breathing too loudly, Argus came back up the hill carrying his pouch of brandy. His companions paid no attention to him. At Prince Kragen's announcement, Geraden's whole body twitched. Terisa stared. At least temporarily, even Ribuld was too interested in what he heard to be interrupted by liquor.

Nyle's surprise showed in the way he stood. 'Why?'

'Why the Perdon?' Prince Kragen hid a trace of amusement under his black moustache. 'Why the kingship? Or why you?'

Nyle seemed unable to do anything except nod.

The Perdon is my only reasonable choice. You see, I profited from my meeting with the lords, although it did not have the outcome I desired. The Fayle is too old-and too loyal. The Tor has become a drunken fool. The Domne would refuse. The Armigite-' Prince Kragen snorted. 'As for the Termigan, he is too far away. Also he is concerned only for the fate of his own Care.

The Perdon must be offered the kingship to prove our good faith.'

Furiously, Geraden whispered, 'Not to mention the fact that the Perdon is the only lord with an army close enough to threaten you, my lord Prince.'

'Despite what King Joyse and Castellan Lebbick believe,' Prince Kragen continued reasonably, 'it has never been the Alend Monarch's intention to conquer Mordant for himself. His first priority-his only over-riding commitment-is to fill the vacuum of power in Mordant so that the Congery of Imagers will not fall into the hands of Cadwal.

To accomplish that, we will conquer Mordant because we have no alternative. What else can we do? The King insulted my mission. The lords refused the union Master Eremis and I offered them.

'But we will not take Mordant for ourselves if the Perdon can be persuaded to be King. That will be your job. He might not listen to such a proposal from me. We are traditional enemies, as you have said. But a son of the Domne-a lifelong friend of the lady Elega- may perhaps persuade him. For the good of all who oppose Festten and Cadwal. 'Will you do it, Nyle?'

Nyle was silent for a long time. When he spoke, he sounded both astonished and relieved.

'Yes.' In spite of its softness, the word came out with too much steam, as if it were exploding from inside him. 'Yes, my lord Prince. I'll do it.'

Geraden covered his head with his hands, inadvertently smearing snow into his hair. 'Good.' Prince Kragen stepped closer to the fire to warm his hands. Then you will need

to know 'what's going on', in order to convey that information to the Perdon.'

Argus put his brandy pouch down in front of Terisa. Noticing it, she realized that she was miserably cold. With a shiver, she loosened the neck of the pouch and raised it to her mouth. Like her cheeks, her lips were too numb to know what they were doing; but her tongue verified that the brandy was going into her mouth rather than down her chin. It tasted h'ke badly perfumed tarnish remover, but it did what it was supposed to do: it raised the temperature of her blood several degrees.

She passed the pouch to Geraden.

Down in the ravine, Prince Kragen crooked a finger at the bodyguard who had unpacked the bundles. The man came to him and handed him a stylus and a small writing tablet. Standing by the fire, Prince Kragen began to write. His fingers held the stylus as though they knew nothing about swords and had never helped save Terisa's life.

'Is that a message to the Perdon, my lord Prince?' Nyle's tone suggested impatience.

The Prince shook his head. To my father. The Alend Monarch needs to know that you have agreed to approach the Perdon for us.'

'What will he do?'

'What he is already doing.' Prince Kragen's mind was on his message. 'In the bazaar of

Orison during the first morning of the thaw, you brought me the lady Elega's word that she had learned a way to fulfil her part of our plans. You noticed, I think, that I was pleased by this news.

'I was pleased because much hinges on her role. While you and I spoke together-while we chose the day and place for this meeting-my father and his armies were already crossing the Pestil into Armigite.'

Argus, Ribuld, and Geraden became still: all movement was sucked out of them. They didn't blink or glance around; they didn't appear to breathe. Every part of them-their arms and legs, the angles of their backs, the set of their shoulders- concentrated on what they were hearing.

So it was all a lie, thought Terisa. His peaceful mission. His meeting with the lords. A lie. The Alend Monarch had begun marching before he even had time to learn the outcome of his son's mission. He had never intended to do anything except invade Mordant.

Like an echo of her shocked thoughts, Nyle articulated softly, 'You never wanted peace. You never meant King Joyse to take your mission seriously. You just came here looking for people to help you betray him.' Both arms leaped outward in a gesture full of violence, fiercely truncated. 'This is what you call 'good faith'?'

Distinct and sibilant in the cold, a sword came out of its sheath. Prince Kragen's bodyguard moved forward, aiming the tip of his blade at Nyle's throat.

Ribuld clutched at his own sword.

But a quick wave of the Prince's hand stopped the bodyguard. The man shrugged stiffly and resheathed his longsword.

'I understand your anger, Nyle.' Prince Kragen spoke calmly, almost casually, but his tone warned Nyle not to push him too far. 'You misunderstand me, however. The problem is one of communication, is it not? Knowing that I spent nearly thirty days in the worst of this winter making my way from the Alend Monarch's seat in Scarab to Orison, you believe that we have had no time to exchange messages since my arrival here. Therefore you conclude that I have come merely to serve plans which he made before I left him.' Nyle didn't move.

With a faint smile, the Prince continued, Those unruly barons, the Alend Lieges, are always striving to gain the advantage over each other. At last their petty wrestling has produced something useful.' Another gesture to his bodyguard brought the man forward carrying a bundle which appeared to be a swath of cloth wrapped around a rigid frame.

Prince Kragen rolled his message tightly and tied it into a tiny packet with a piece of thread. When he was done, his bodyguard unveiled the bundle, revealing a bird in a square cage.

'A carrier pigeon,' Terisa breathed in astonishment. They're using carrier pigeons.'

Argus, Ribuld, and Geraden all stared at her for an instant, then snapped their attention back down into the ravine.

The bird was unmistakably a pigeon. It cooed comfortably as the bodyguard removed it from the cage and held it so that Prince Kragen could bind his message to its leg. 'One of the Lieges,' the Prince explained, 'discovered that these birds have the ability to find their way over any distance back to the place which they have been trained to recognize as home. This one has learned to identify a combination of tents, standards, and wagon- lines which invariably occurs in my father's encampments. It will fly to him when it is released.

'Now do you understand?' Prince Kragen's tone was hard, a threat behind his amicable manner. 'I brought a number of these birds from Alend. They bear messages to my father in a day- perhaps less. In this way, I make decisions for him.

'I came to Orison charged with the responsibility of resolving the dilemma of the Congery, Cadwal, and war-the dilemma of your King's strange weakness. I am the Alend Contender. I wish strongly to earn the throne. For that reason, my mission of peace was sincere, I assure you. But when King Joyse rejected it, I began to think of war. I sent messages accordingly. Then, however, both Master Eremis and the lady Elega offered me hopes which were much preferable to war. Again I sent messages. When the lords of the Cares refused the pact which Master Eremis suggested to them-and most especially when I experienced how vulnerable Orison-and therefore the Congery-was to attack from Cadwal-I determined to act on the possibilities which the lady Elega and I had discussed.

'The Alend Monarch is doing what I ask of him. And I ask it because I believe it to be the least bloody and most effective answer to an intolerable danger. High King Festten must not gain control of the Congery. The breach of Orison's wall is an opportunity I can not ignore.'

Firmly, the Prince concluded, 'What is your answer now?' Nyle looked like he was swallowing hard, trying to adjust his preconceptions to fit new information. At the moment, Geraden appeared to have no opinion about what his brother should do. He seemed to be scrambling to catch up with the implications of what he had just heard. Both Argus and Ribuld watched the encounter below with trouble in their eyes.

'My lord Prince-' Nyle began thickly. 'I should probably apologize. I didn't know this was possible.' His hands moved helplessly at his sides. 'Of course I'll go to Perdon. I'll persuade the Perdon somehow.'

Prince Kragen studied Nyle for a moment. Then he nodded. His bodyguard released the pigeon.

It took to the air in a flash of grey, a hint of blue and green. Terisa watched it go, an easy labour of wings against the chill sky-watched it as if it were on its way to bring bloodshed down on Orison. After circling briefly, it turned north.

Ribuld glared at her. 'You knew about that bird,' he murmured.

'We have them where I come from.' Defensively, she added, 'We have horses, too, but I've never ridden one before.' Geraden nudged the guard silent.

Nyle was still struggling to improve his grasp on the situation. 'But is there time?' he asked after some thought. 'When do you think the Alend Monarch will get to Orison? I don't know where the Perdon is. He might not be in Scarping. He might be anywhere along the Vertigon, fighting Cadwals.'

'I have chosen the time with some care,' replied Prince Kragen as if this would reassure Nyle. Tt is important that you do not reach the Perdon too soon. If you do, and he is not persuaded, and so he brings his forces against us, he might be able to block us from Orison. For that reason, we did not meet until today. I calculate that if you find him immediately-and he rejects you and comes against us in furious haste-he will not reach Orison until after we have mastered it.'

Geraden shook his head. 'It's not that easy,' he whispered.

'You think it's going to be that easy?' The idea seemed to incense Nyle. 'A siege might take all spring. Even with that breach in the wall. You can't just-'

'Nyle,' the Prince cut in. 'I am not a child. Do not harangue me about sieges. I have studied them deeply. And I assure you that we will be able to master Orison.'

Nyle received this assertion like a man struggling not to let what he heard stun him. 'Still, my lord Prince,' he said slowly, 'it seems to me you're trying to control events too delicately. What if the weather turns against you? We're almost sure to get another storm.'

Prince Kragen shrugged. His patience was wearing thin. 'Then you and the Perdon will be hindered as much as we are.'

'And what about the Armigite?' Nyle seemed unable to keep his anger down. 'Is he going to let you march your army-and supply it-straight through his Care without making at least an effort to slow you down?'

At that, Prince Kragen laughed shortly. 'I doubt that I need to concern myself with the Armigite.' His laugh held a note of scorn which made Terisa feel suddenly colder. 'Nevertheless I have done so. He and I have negotiated a pact.

'Sweating fear all the while, he offered me an unhindered passage through his Care for as many armies as I chose to name -and what did he ask in exchange? That we do no violence to his people in their towns and villages? That we leave untouched the cattlepens and storehouses that feed his Care? No. He asked only that he be allowed to remain safe and ignorant-ignorant, Nyle-while the fate of Mordant was decided.'

Argus swore under his breath. But Terisa had met the Armi-gite: she wasn't surprised. 'Personally,' the Prince went on with more nonchalance, 'I would enjoy damaging his

ignorance a little. His Care deserves better of him. But we will respect the pact. And we will do no harm to his people or his cattle or his stores. Our aim is to find an answer to your King's weakness-and to oppose Cadwal- not to worsen the old enmity between Mordant and Alend.

'Have I satisfied you, Nyle?'

From the back, Nyle didn't look satisfied: there was too much tension in his stance. Terisa would have expected him to be grateful to Prince Kragen for giving him so few causes for mistrust, so many reasons to believe he was doing the right thing. Why was he still angry? Why did he sound almost livid with fury as he replied, 'Yes, my lord Prince.'

For a moment, Prince Kragen regarded his ally as though he, too, didn't understand Nyle's mood. But apparently what he saw in Nyle's face reassured him. 'Good,' he said, suddenly brisk. The Perdon will listen to you. Let us begin.'

At once, he signalled to his bodyguards.

The men watching either end of the ravine returned to their horses. Moving stiffly, Nyle readied his own mount. At last, Terisa saw his face. His features were set and implacable, as if nothing-not even his own passion-could dissuade him from the course he had chosen.

Argus rose into a crouch and loosened his sword. 'We'll jump them before they get out of the ravine. Maybe we'll be able to stop them.' The grimace which exposed his missing

teeth didn't show much fear. Fighting was his job: he and Ribuld seemed to take it for granted.

But Geraden stopped them. 'Don't be stupid. There are four of them. And if the Prince has any sense, he has more nearby.

'You.' Speaking quickly so that the guards had no chance to argue with him, he stabbed an index finger at Argus. 'Follow the Prince. Find where he's camped. Keep an eye on him. And leave a trail.

'Ribuld, you get back to Orison,' The lines of Geraden's face were as sharp as the cold. Frost in his eyebrows and snow in his hair made him look strangely feral. Tell Castellan Lebbick what you heard. Lead him here. Tell him if he captures the Prince we can use him as a hostage. We still have a chance to get out of this mess.

'Go.' He gave the guard an urgent push.

Ribuld looked once at Argus and back at Geraden, puckering his scar in concentration.

Then he launched himself down the steep slope almost at a run.

Prince Kragen and his bodyguards swung up into their saddles. Nyle began dousing his fire with handfuls of crusted snow.

Thanks a lot,' Argus whispered sarcastically to Geraden. 'You gave me the hard job. If they go west, these two ravines join. I can pick up their trail there. But if they go east-' He jerked a thumb behind him. That one ends. The other opens out of these hills. I won't be able to get my horse over the ridge. I'll have to follow them on foot.'

Then you're in luck.' Geraden pointed downward.

Below him, Nyle mounted his horse. The son of the Domne and the son of the Alend Monarch faced each other, and Prince Kragen raised a salute. Together, the Alends turned to the left and started along the frozen stream.

Argus punched Geraden lightly on the arm and left, bounding down the ridgeside towards his mount.

Terisa continued watching Nyle. Over her shoulder, she heard Ribuld ride away.

Nyle remained where he was for a moment, perhaps considering the best route to Perdon, perhaps wondering what he could say to persuade Perdon's lord-perhaps simply hesitating. Then he urged his mount forward with his heels and went east.

Geraden caught hold of Terisa's hand. 'Come on. We've got to stop him.' He almost pulled her off balance as he followed Argus towards the horses.

At once, he fell. Fortunately, some instinct inspired him to let go of her hand as he went down. And he caught himself before he had a chance to break any bones on the rocks. He reached the bottom of the ravine several strides ahead of her.

Awkward with haste, he leaped into the saddle of his mare. From the low valley where the streams met, Ribuld had disappeared along the streambed in the direction of Orison. At a more cautious pace, Argus was going west, towards the joining of the ravines. Flapping his boots against the mare's sides, Geraden goaded her into a gallop eastwards.

Terisa reached out a hand to him, called as loudly as she dared, 'Wait!' He didn't see or hear her.

By the time she had descended to her gelding, she had decided to forget everything else and just follow Ribuld home. She was chilled to the heart: she didn't know how much more of this cold she could endure. She was afraid of everything she had heard.

Ignoring her own decision, she continued to hurry as fast as she could. Somehow, she untethered the gelding; somehow, she got her left foot into the stirrup, her right leg over its back. With the reins, she hauled its head towards the east.

Gritting her teeth, she kicked it.

She nearly panicked when the gelding went from a trot into a canter and then a run, trying for reasons of its own to catch up with Geraden's mare.

This speed felt tremendous. And the bottom of the ravine was treacherous. She ought to control her mount somehow-slow it; steer it to safer footing. Of course. And while she was at it, she ought to defeat the Alend Monarch's army, take care of Master Gilbur and the arch-Imager Vagei, and produce peace on earth. While composing great music with her free hand. Instead of doing all that, however, she concentrated with a pure white intensity that resembled terror on simply staying in the saddle.

The northern wall of the ravine became sheer grey stone, then relaxed its slope a little. Along the top, it was thick with brush. The south side was much more gradual, held down by heavy black trees with their roots gripped in the soil. But soon the trees drew back, and the side became steeper.

While the gelding hurtled along, she promised and promised herself that if she ever got off it alive she would never ride again, never as long as she lived, never.

All at once, as if the terrain itself had taken pity on her, the walls of the ravine jumped up and came together, ending the watercourse. At one time, it must have continued on to the east; but apparently its sides had fallen inward, forcing the water to find another channel. The horses had nowhere to go.

Roughly, Geraden wrenched his mare to a halt and sprang from her back. He hit the ground too fast: he fell again, slamming his whole body into the snow. He looked like a wildman as he regained his feet and charged the north slope.

She had no breath to shout at him, call him back, so she had to figure out how to make the gelding stop by herself.

Unintentionally kind, it took care of that detail for her. Having rejoined the mare, it seemed suddenly content with its lot in life. At the mare's side, it nuzzled her once, then lowered its head and lapsed into a state of impenetrable stupidity.

Terisa was still in one piece. Amazing.

It would have been nice to sit there and enjoy her survival for a moment. But Geraden was scrambling frantically at the slope. At first, the climb looked too steep for him. Then she saw that he was going to make it. Soon he would be out of sight.

She struggled off her horse, took a few tentative steps to test the solidity of the world, then pushed herself into a tight run.

The ridgeside was certainly steep. It was well supplied with embedded rocks and protruding roots, however. And Geraden's upward scramble had cleared away a remarkable amount of snow. She found that if she didn't hurry-and didn't look down -she could make the ascent quite easily.

On the way, she tried not to think about how far ahead he was. Or what he intended to do.

Gasping at the icy air, she reached the crest.

The spine separating the two ravines was much the same here as it had been back where she and Geraden had eavesdropped on Nyle and Prince Kragen: a bit gentler down its northward face; marked with brush, jutting piles of rock, a few trees; but still steep. The stream which had cut the ravine clung to the base of the spine, wandering slowly out of sight to the east. The ravine itself was gone, however. Its own north side had slumped down and opened up into a wood which filled the lower ground between this spine and another ridge of hills. The ridge was plainly visible through the bare treetops, although it appeared to be some distance away.

Geraden, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen.

She would have panicked, but she had no time. Almost at once, she spotted Nyle.

He rode at a trot along the streambed. He was still off to her left, coming eastward; but in a moment he would be directly below her. If she were the kind of person who did such things, she could have hit him with a rock.

More because Nyle's movement drew her gaze in that direction than because she had recovered her common sense, she looked at the slope in front of her and saw the marks of Geraden's descent. They went straight into a thick clump of brush poised above the streambed.

She figured out what was happening just in time to control her surprise as Geraden sprang out of the brush at his brother.

His elevation and proximity gave him an advantage: he could hardly have missed. And he jumped hard. His momentum carried Nyle out of the saddle and plunged both of them into the snow on the far side of the horse with a sound that made Terisa think of snapped arms and broken backs.

She started down the slope, a shout locked in her throat.

Geraden's experience with falls stood him in good stead. He was on his feet again almost instantly. Scattering flurries of snow, he dashed after the startled horse and struck the beast on its rump, sending it away at a gallop, out of reach. Then he turned back to his brother.

Nyfe lifted his head. For a moment, he didn't appear to realize that he was blind because his face was caked in snow. When he scraped his features clear, however, he was able to see.

'Are you all right?' asked Geraden. 'I didn't mean to hurt you. I just wanted to stop you.'

Blinking fiercely, Nyle shook his head. In a series of jerks, he moved each of his arms, then his legs. He slapped snow off his half-cloak. All at once, he yanked himself to his feet like a knife-blade opening.

'If you think this is a joke,' he said between his teeth, 'it isn't funny.'

Terisa's exhausted legs nearly failed her; she stumbled and had to catch herself on a tree. But she was almost there.

'It isn't a joke.' Geraden was so caked and white that he looked like he had been rolled together by children. Nevertheless there was nothing child-like in his manner. 'I'm not going to let you do it.'

Terisa reached the streambed and skittered across the frozen surface towards the two brothers.

'Do what?' snapped Nyle. 'You've lost your mind. I was just riding. On a horse.

Remember horses? You act like that's a crime against humanity.'

'Nyle.' Geraden held himself still. Even his voice became still. 'I heard you. I was there.' He included Terisa. 'We were there. We heard everything you said. And Prince Kragen.'

For just a second, Nyle gaped at his brother. He gaped at Terisa. Mutely, she nodded in confirmation.

He straightened his shoulders, and anger closed his face like a shutter.

'So you've decided to stop me. Full of moral superiority, you've decided to stop me because you cling to the astonishing belief that King Joyse and chaos and terrible Imagery and a fresh start to the wars that crippled Mordant for generations are somehow preferable to putting the Perdon on the throne and saving the entire kingdom. You-'

'No.' Geraden shook his head, suppressing violence. 'It won't work. The Perdon will never accept Prince Kragen's offer-he knows that. He's sending you to do this to confuse the issue, so the Perdon won't have a chance to fight for Orison when Alend attacks.'

'You're wrong, Geraden.' Terisa was surprised to hear herself speak. Her voice was like a small animal huddling against the cold and barely alive. 'I'm sorry. I've met the Perdon. I've seen him and Prince Kragen together. He's desperate. He won't turn the Prince down.'

Geraden gave her a quick look of dismay; but Nyle didn't glance away from his brother. 'Even if that's not true,' he resumed, 'you're acting like a child. Prince Kragen is right. The Alend Monarch is right. The worst thing that can happen to us is for High King Festten to get his hands on the Congery.

'We're already being torn apart by an Imager no one can find or stop. Cadwal will be able to decimate everything west of the Vertigon if the Congery falls. On our mother's grave, Geraden, we ought to beg Margonal to invade us.

'Instead of interfering, why don't you figure out what you're going to say to all the families who are going to be butchered- all the children who are going to be bereaved-all the men and women who are going to be maimed and massacred when King Joyse finally collapses and no power strong enough to hold the realm together takes his place? 'In the meantime, get out of my way.'

Thrusting between Geraden and Terisa, he stamped off after his horse.

The dismay on Geraden's face got worse. For a moment, he seemed unable to move.

Confused and alarmed, Terisa reached out a hand to him. 'Geraden?'

Abruptly, his features knotted, and he swung into motion. Chasing Nyle, he yelled, That's great! Wonderful! You're right, of course. You're being perfectly reasonable. Our father is going to be very proud of you.' Nyle flinched, but kept on walking.

There's just one thing. What about loyalty? King Joyse is our father's friend. What about self-respect? You're betraying your King, the man who made Mordant and peace out of nothing but bloodshed. How are you planning to live the rest of your life without loyalty or self-respect?'

'Loyalty to whom?' Though Nyle's stride didn't falter, his shout was like a cry. 'King Joyse? When was he ever loyal to me?

'He met all of us. He must have seen me dying for his notice, his approval. But you're the one he invited to Orison. When he decided to betroth Elega, he chose you. And a brilliant choice it was, too. You've certainly vindicated his good judgement, haven't you? Forgive me, but I find it a little difficult to feel warm and sentimental about that man.

'And he's going to get us all killed!' Small pieces of his distress echoed back from the treetrunks. 'Don't you understand that? How much self-respect are you going to get out of giving your life for a man who sacrificed you simply because he couldn't be bothered to hold his realm together? If you want to talk about self-respect, ask yourself why you place so little value on your own blood. I won't even mention the blood of all the people you claim to care about.' Then why-'

Geraden caught up with Nyle and grabbed his arm. Nyle flung off Geraden's grip. The two brothers faced each other, their breath steaming furiously.

Then why,' Geraden repeated, 'are you so angry about it?' He was no longer shouting. His voice sank to a whisper, 'You're doing what you know is right. Doesn't that make you feel good? And you're doing what Elega wants. She'll love you for it. She won't be able to help herself. Doesn't that make you feel good?'

'No.' Like Geraden, Nyle lowered his voice as if he didn't want the trees or the snow to hear him. 'No, it doesn't.' Each word hurt. That's how I got into this, but it doesn't help. She doesn't love me. She'll never love me. She loves Prince Kragen.'

All around him, the wood was silent. The only noise came from Terisa's boots as she neared the brothers. The sunlight out of the leaden sky seemed to have no weight, no effect against the cold.

Geraden spread his hands in a gesture of appeal. Then give it up. Please. This is all craziness anyway. There's no way the Alend Monarch can take Orison without a terrible siege-without killing any number of people. I don't care what Prince Kragen says. The Tor and Castellan Lebbick won't give up. The only lives you're going to save are Alend's, not ours. Don't throw yourself away for a woman who wants to betray her own father.'

Terisa saw at once that Geraden had made a mistake. He should have left Nyle's grief to gnaw at him unaided-shouldn't have mentioned Elega again. But it was too late now: the damage was done. As if the bones of his skull were shifting, Nyle's face took on the implacable set which had persuaded Prince Kragen to trust him. His eyes were as dull as weathered stone.

'If you want my advice'-he had a white-knuckled grip on himself-'go home while you can. And take Artagel with you. He isn't going to enjoy losing his famous independence.'

'Nyle' Geraden protested.

Nyle glanced over his shoulder. 'I see my horse. He'll let me catch him-if you haven't spooked him too badly.' He returned his gaze to Geraden's. 'You're going to stay here while I go get him. Then I'm going to ride away. If your mind is as weak as your talent for Imagery, you'll go back to Orison and tell Lebbick the whole story. It won't do him any good, but at least he'll have something to fret about for a few days. But if you have any sense, you'll keep your mouth shut.'

Softly, Geraden replied, 'No.' Clogged with snow, he looked white and foolish beside his dark-clad brother. Pain came from him in gouts of vapour, but his voice and his eyes and his hands were steady. 'No, Nyle. I won't let you go.'

Briefly, Nyle's features twisted as though he were trying to smile. Then his shoulders and arms relaxed. 'I guess I knew you were going to say that.' He made an unsuccessful effort to sound casual. 'You always were pretty stubborn.'

Terisa struggled to give warning, but her voice failed her, As if she were helpless, she watched Nyle start into a full-circle spin which seemed to lift him off the ground, out of

the snow, bringing one of his boots to Geraden's head.

His kick slammed his brother down.

For a moment, Geraden arched his back and clawed at the crust. Then he lay still as if his neck were broken.

Quickly, Nyle bent to examine his brother.

When he was satisfied, he swung to face Terisa. Now he couldn't contain his fury. His hands clenched and unclenched spasmodically at his sides. The muscles of his jaw worked.

Take care of him. If you let him die out here, I'll come back and throttle you with my bare hands.'

He headed for his horse at a run, as though there were hounds at his heels.

She never saw him go. Her hands were too cold; she couldn't find any sensation in her fingers. She was weeping with fear and frustration when she finally located the pulse in Geraden's throat and understood that he wasn't dead already.

A long time seemed to pass before she noticed that her surroundings were familiar.

Through the black-trunked trees, she saw a ridge of hills. She had seen it earlier without paying any attention to it; but now its crisp line against the wintery sky tugged at her memory. Where -? It had been slightly different. She remembered dry, light flakes frothing like steam, churned to boiling by the haste of horses. She remembered the creaking of leather, the jangle of tack. And she remembered-

She remembered horns.

Her dream. This place was her dream, the dream which had come to her the night before her life changed-come as if to prepare her for Geraden's arrival. The trees and the cold were the same. The ridge was the same. And Geraden was here, the young man in her dream who had appeared, coatless and unarmed, to save her life. All she lacked were three riders who hated her and drove their mounts through the snow for a chance to strike her dead. And the sound of horns, reaching her through the chill and the wood like the call for which her heart waited.

She didn't hear any horns. Though she yearned and strained for it, she couldn't conjure

that hunting music out of her mind and into the air.

Nevertheless she heard the labour of horses in the distance, crashing through the snow-crust. The cold brought every sound off the ridge into the wood, as edged as a shard of glass.

The sensation that she had wandered into her dream made everything distinct and slow: she had time to see clearly, time to hear every sound except the horns she desired. There they were, where she knew they would be: three men on horseback charging along the skirt of the ridge. She saw them through the wide gaps between the trees. She saw steam trailing furiously from the nostrils of the mounts. Each plunge of their hooves, each crunch-and-thud through ice and snow reached her ears.

Unheralded by the high, winging call that would have made the dream complete, the three riders swung abruptly away from the hills and aimed their mounts in her direction.

She was watching them so hard that she didn't realize Geraden was conscious until he gained his feet beside her, rubbing his head.

Caught up in the double experience of what was happening and what she had dreamed, she was unable to speak, unable to shift her concentration from the riders. Like hers, however, his attention was on them. 'You recognize them?' His voice was dull with the after-effects of his brother's blow.

The riders were still too far away to be recognized, although she already knew the look of their hate. She shook her head.

They're probably after you.' He didn't need to speak quickly; there was no hurry, he had plenty of time. 'It wouldn't be impossible for somebody to find us. If they asked the right questions at the stables and the gates. And they met that wagon driver.' He turned away, then back again. There's no point in trying to run. Our horses are too far away.'

Swords appeared in the hands of the riders-blades as long as sabres, but viciously curved, like scimitars. They were going to hack her into the snow where she stood. She ought to move. She and Geraden ought to do something. At the moment, however, she was more interested in the odd recollection that the swords raised against her in her dream had been straight, not curved.

Geraden seemed equally out of touch with reality. He was too calm. For some reason he chose this moment to kick at lumps in the snow. Then his behaviour began to make sense. From the snow, he uncovered fallen branches. They were crooked and dead; but two of them were stout, as thick as her arm, long enough to be useful.

This wasn't right. This wasn't the way it happened in her dream.

But there was still plenty of time. He gave one branch to her, kept one for himself. 'When they reach that tree'-he pointed-'we'll separate. If they split up, we might have a

better chance against them. If they don't, I'll be able to hit them from the side when they attack you.'

She had the impression that if she really looked at him, she would see that he was terrified. Yet her ears insisted on hearing him as if he were calm.

'Don't worry about the riders. Go for the horses. Try to hit one of them in the face. If we get lucky, the rider will fall and hurt himself.'

She didn't respond. Her attention was on the riders while she waited to hear horns. Then their faces came into focus for her, and she saw that she was wrong about them.

They weren't the riders in her dream. They weren't men at all.

They had eyes in the wrong places. Long whiskers sprouted around the orbs. Snouts hid their mouths, but not their tusks. She was able to see their heads because the hoods of their riding capes had been swept back. Their heads were covered with mottled red fur.

They seemed to have more limbs than they needed. Each of them seemed to be waving two swords. No. It wasn't like this.

Nevertheless the sensation that she was acting out a dream grew stronger.

She remained motionless, waiting. The air was whetted with cold, as hard as a slap and as penetrating as splinters. She could hear the separate sound made by each pounding hoof.

When the riders reached the tree Geraden had indicated, he hissed, 'Now!' and dashed away as if he had decided at the last moment to flee. He ran kicking his feet high to break them free of the icy surface. But she didn't move.

Without hesitation, all three of the riders turned their mounts and plunged after him.

None of their strange eyes so much as glanced at her.

Out of nowhere, a pang of fear nailed her. Geraden? Geraden?

So suddenly that he nearly fell, he turned and saw his danger. He flung a look like a cry in her direction, then raised his club. The riders were almost on top of him.

Gripping his branch in both hands, he broke it across the forehead of the first horse.

The mount squealed in pain, tried too late to leap aside. Wrenched off balance, the rider spilled into the snow in front of the second attacker.

Frantically trying to avoid a collision, the second horse and rider went down.

Geraden hit the downed rider with the remains of his club, then dodged around the struggling horse to evade his third attacker-and tripped. He landed on his face in an untrampled patch of snow.

As he fell, the first rider hacked at him from the ground. But the crusted snow hampered movement: the blow missed. Geraden and his attacker struggled to their feet at the same time, while the third rider turned to come in for another charge.

Awkwardly, Geraden stumbled out of reach long enough to snatch up a sword from the rider he had stunned. He obviously didn't know how to use it, however. Clenching it like a bludgeon, he turned to face his attacker.

The creature let out a snort of scorn and started swinging. Geraden blocked the first cut.

He was helpless to parry the second.

In her dream, Terisa had watched a man hazard his life to save her. Despite his evident lack of experience with weapons, he had downed one assailant for her sake. Then another. And she had watched. Nothing more. She had seen the third rider come up behind him. Sword held high, the rider had positioned himself to cut her rescuer down. And she had made no effort to help him. She had startled herself out of the dream altogether by shouting a warning.

But it was Geraden who was being attacked, Geraden who needed rescuing. And she still had the branch he had given her. She felt that she had been running for a long time, that the distance was too great, she would never reach him in time; but she ran harder than she had ever run in her life, and before his attacker could kill him she swung her club against the side of that furred head.

Several things seemed to be happening simultaneously. Nevertheless she saw them all.

She saw a flat patch appear in the mottled red fur. While the attacker stumbled to his knees, the patch began to bleed, first slowly, then in a sickening gush. He hit the snow, and his life splashed a red-black stain across the crust. He was never going to move again.

Geraden gaped at her, momentarily astonished.

At the same time, she saw the third rider come up behind him. Swords held high, the rider positioned himself to cut Geraden down.

Geraden was looking at her. He had forgotten the third rider entirely.

There was no time for any warning, no time for her to move, no time for him to duck or dodge.

Yet there was time for her to see another horseman reach the creature and drive a long poniard like a spike into the centre of his back. She saw him cough blood onto Geraden's shoulders and pitch from his horse, almost knocking Geraden down as he dropped.

Nyle hauled his mount to a stop and sprang out of the saddle. 'Are you all right?' Without waiting for an answer, he began to check the fallen riders. 'Where did you get enemies like this?' When he found that the first attacker was still alive, he produced a length of rope from one of his saddlebags and lashed the creature's wrists and ankles together. 'I saw them heading this way. Since they were in such a hurry to get to the place where I just left you, I decided I ought to follow them.'

Geraden and Terisa stared at him as if he had arrived from the moon.

'Are you all right?' he repeated. There was concern in his eyes; but there was also a glint of humour, a suggestion of pride; for a moment he looked so much like Artagel and Geraden that the resemblance closed Terisa's throat. 'I get the impression you aren't used to fighting enemies like this.'

Thank you,' said Geraden as if he felt the same way she did. A nauseated expression distorted his features. With a shudder of disgust, he dropped the sword he was holding. Thanks for coming back.'

In the same motion, he picked up another sturdy branch and knocked his brother unconscious in front of him.

Then he stood hunched over Nyle with his chin thrust out and his face like the winter, breathing in great gasps that seemed to hurt his chest.

Terisa strained her ears for the distant calling of horns. But it was all in her mind.