Description: As soon as word traveled inward from the perimeter patrol outside Iasca Leror''s royal city that the king''s banner had been spotted, people put down tools and lined the main street behind the city gate. When low clouds rumbling overhead brought huge splats of rain, some ducked inside doorways, but no one returned to work or home. At last the tower and the now-visible outriders exchanged the thrilling trumpet chords announcing the return of the king. The Bell Runners enthusiastically plied the ropes, and people surged from under cover to line the streets, and began to shout and pound on hand drums. "Evred-Harvaldar Sigun!" "Evred-Harvaldar Sigun!" "Evred-Harvaldar Sigun!" The rhythmic shout gained volume as their young king rode through the city gates, tall and straight, his red hair darkened to the shade of his father''s by the rain, color emphasizing his cheekbones. They cheered him and his men all the way to the castle gates, and only when he was inside did they go back to work in small clumps, everybody laughing and cheerful. Innkeepers promised to draw an ale for everyone (many knowing that that would begin an evening of festive largesse) to cheer the northern victory as they looked forward to the stories the returning warriors would tell. Inside the castle courtyard Evred slipped from his saddle, leaving his Runners to supervise as the last remnant of his army--the King''s Riders who guarded the city and castle--rode over to their barracks to dismount, unpack, and then reunite with families for the promised liberty. The warm splatters of rain dotting brown circles on the honey-colored flagstones began to merge as the young queen appeared, short like Inda, her wide brown eyes and unruly brown curls so much like his. But where Inda was broad in chest and shoulder, Hadand-Gunvaer was broad in bosom and hip. She and Evred clasped hands, and the tower sentries--men and women--sent up a cheer. "Hadand-Gunvaer Deheldegarthe!" Deheldegarthe: a fighting queen, one who had by her own hand defended the kingdom. It, like Sigun for the king, was the highest accolade--one that must be given, never asked for. The royal pair smiled upward, and as the rain abruptly increased walked inside together; Hadand observed her beloved''s distant gaze, and waited for him to return from wherever his thoughts had taken him. The air was motionless and warm inside the tower, assailing Evred with familiar smells, comfortable smells, which were now free from the power to harm; his uncle and brother had receded to occasional distorted voices in dreams. When he and Hadand reached his outer chamber, he discovered chilled wine-and-punch waiting. "Ah," he said on a long outward breath. "How good it is to be home." "Your last report via the magic case stated that all is well in the north." Hadand dropped onto a waiting mat. Evred sat down next to her, and cradled the broad, shallow wine cup in both hands. "It is as well as can be expected. Ndand Arveas is there in the Pass, holding Castle Andahi while Cama rides back and forth from Idayago to Ghael. We''ll have to find someone to back her until Keth grows. Though she''s strong enough to hold it on her own." Hadand''s lips parted. She longed to say, So why don''t you make her a Jarlan, and let her pick her own Jarl? Why can''t women command castles? It seemed so obvious--especially since it had been women who had held Castle Andahi in the teeth of the entire Venn invasion, down to the last one. But now was not the time for new ideas. She had learned through letters from women across the kingdom that most of the men who had gone north to fight (those who returned) longed to resume the old ways, the comfort of tradition. So she turned her attention to Evred even as he studied her. Both, out of lifetime habit, tried to descry the inner workings of the other''s mind: as children they had shared everything, but time, and experience, had built personal boundaries that were difficult to surmount, despite their best intentions. "We''ll have to establish watches all along the north coast," Evred went on, sounding tired. "Something like Flash''s beacon system, which would have worked, had there not been treachery from within. But I''m keeping our best dragoon captains up there, headquartered at Ala Larkadhe, since my twin cousins want to swap off yearly as Jarls of Yvana-Vayir and commanders of the northern force." "Aren''t they young for that?" Hadand asked. "Year older than I was when I was first sent north to command," Evred said wryly. "And yes, my authority was limited. So will theirs be, at least at first. They know Cama is under Inda in chain of command, and they report to him. They accepted it without argument. Good boys, both of them. Though Beaver never seems to stop talking." Hadand said, "Will they keep swapping off by year?" "For now. I hope by the time their cousin finishes here as a horsetail and can serve as Randael at Yvana-Vayir they''ll settle it among themselves. . . if we do not have any more war." Hadand''s brown, unwavering gaze was so much like Inda''s--and yet not. Evred realized he was searching for Inda in Hadand''s eyes. His emotions roiled until he locked them down hard. "To finish with Ala Larkadhe, the Morvende archive in the white tower was closed to me." Her face changed from the tension of worry to comprehension. She knew what that archive meant to him. "Did the Morvende say anything?" "Nothing. I permitted the archive to be used as a transport, which seems to have alerted them. But the closing was inevitable, because I dared to lead an army to war." He tried, and failed, to keep the bitterness from his voice. "It appears that no one wishes to hear my reasons." Hadand poured more punch, maintaining a compassionate silence. She perceived the effort he made to relax, to look up, and around. "All seems well here." "Yes. But we had no war to contend with." How it hurt her, to see the effort he made; what could she do? She had worked hard to have everything just right when he came home at last, down to his favorite foods here, now rapidly cooling. He looked blankly at the biscuits, then up. "The war, yes. You must have questions. I know my reports were scant. Those magical boxes. I still don''t really trust them. Even if I could send a sheaf of papers instead of quarter-sheets folded small, there was still the matter of trying to find the time to write on them." "I have questions indeed. Beginning with the Venn surrender. What exactly happened? I''ve heard several conflicting accounts, and Inda has never written to me. Tdor says he wrote only that he was still alive." He frowned, yet she knew Inda was all right. Tdor had sent a message when Inda arrived safely home, that they were about to marry. And though Tdor had not written since, Hadand knew that nothing disastrous had happened, or surely, surely she would have heard. "It really was not a surrender, though everyone believes it to have been." He spoke slowly, hesitating between words. She breathed in relief. The problem was obviously not Inda. Absurd to have thought it concerned him! "What exactly happened with the Venn? Are they really gone so suddenly? So many rumors have run ahead of you, and like you say, your report was scanty. I have it by heart now, I''ve read it so many times, trying to wring extra meaning from every pen stroke." His smile was perfunctory. "Some of those rumors began just after the battle. I did nothing to interfere with them." Evred drank his punch down, then pressed his fingers to his temples, eyes closed. "It seemed to hearten the men to think that Durasnir, the Venn Fleet Commander, surrendered to Inda. That he and Inda fought a duel. That he knelt before me and swore allegiance. None of those things happened. He asked for a truce, said that their king was dead, and that Prince Rajnir had to sail home to claim their crown." "That was all?" "There was one thing more. It was very strange. I don''t know why I did it, but I asked if they were coming back." "He''d lie about that, of course," Hadand exclaimed. "So I thought the moment the words were out." Evred crumbled a rye biscuit without awareness of what his fingers were doing, as he thought back. "I braced for threat, or dissembling. Scorn, even. We heard none of that. You must realize first that we learned before the attack that the one we have to fear is the mage Erkric, who was using magic in aid of the war. According to Inda''s Venn lover, the Dag Signi--do you remember her?" Hadand vividly remembered the small, older woman who had so kindly and quietly renewed all the castle magic spells for them, working all night while Evred and Inda raised the entire city to march to war. But Evred so distrusted magic that Hadand only signified assent, without speaking. Evred said, "She told us that Dag Erkric has attempted to strike a bargain with Norsunder in an effort to learn magic that will control minds. It is possible that he has done so." "I find that more difficult to believe than anything," Hadand exclaimed. "You know how I''ve been researching magic ever since I could read, but I''ve never found mention of magic--in our present time--that does that. In the days of Old Sartor, perhaps. We thought it all figurative language." "I have trouble believing it, too. I retained my distrust of Dag Signi to the end, but something that Commander Durasnir said seemed to corroborate . . . well, you tell me what you think." Evred leaned forward. "He asked Inda if he''d ever met Ramis of the Knife . The mystery pirate who commanded the ship with black sails." "The pirate who Inda said caused the rift to the sky through which the Brotherhood of

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