"I informed her that as queen I do not answer to wizards, and that she would be informed of my decisions when I saw fit."

Korathan hesitated, choosing his words with care. One had to, when Phoria was like this. "Do you mean to abandon the negotiations? The way things have gone these past months, Aurenfaie aid might be of value."

Phoria rose and paced the length of the tent. "It's a sign of weakness, Kor. I dare say the surrender of the Mycenian troops along the northwestern border—"

"They surrendered?" Korathan groaned. Never in the history of the Three Lands had Mycena failed to stand with Skala against the incursions of Plenimar.

"Yesterday. Laid down their weapons in return for parole. No doubt they've heard that the Skalan queen sent her youngest daughter begging to the 'faie and it took the last of the heart out of them, exactly as I predicted it would. Southern Mycena is still with us, but it's only a matter of time until they turn coat, too. And of course, the Plenimarans know. I've had reports of raids on the western coast of Skala as far north as Ylani."

Korathan rested his face in his hands a moment as the enormity of the situation rolled over him. "I've been pushed back nearly ten miles in the past six days." The force we met above Haverford had necromancers in the front line. Powerful ones, Phoria, not the hedgerow conjurers you've met with back here. They killed an entire turma's horses beneath them as they charged, then sent the corpses galloping back among our ranks. It was a rout. I think—"

"What? That Mother was right?" Phoria rounded on him. "That we need the Aurenfaie and their magic to survive this war? I'll tell you what we need: Aurenfaie horses, Aurenfaie steel, and the Aurenfaie port of Gedre if we're to defend Rhiminee and the southern islands. But still the Iia'sidra debates!"

Korathan watched with wary fascination as his twin paced, left hand clenched over the pommel of her sword so tightly that the knuckles showed white.

Her old campaigning sword, he noted. She'd put aside the sword

of Gherilain for now so that she could be formally invested with it at her crowning, with all the power and authority it represented. He'd known all his life that this moment would come, that his sister would be queen. Watching her now, why did he suddenly feel as if the ground had given way under him?

"Have you sent word to Klia?" he asked at last.

Phoria shook her head. "Not just yet. I'm expecting fresh dispatches by tomorrow. We'll wait to see which way the wind's blowing down there. Strength, Kor. We must preserve a position of strength at all costs."

"Any news you get by dispatch, even if it comes tomorrow, will be at least a week old. Besides, Klia is sure to put the best light on things, especially once word reaches her that you've taken the throne."

Phoria gave him a strange, tight smile that narrowed her pale eyes like a cat's. Going to a table at the side of the tent, she unlocked an iron box and took out a sheaf of small parchments. "Klia and Torsin are not my only sources of information at Sarikali."

"Ah, yes, your spies in the ranks. What do they say? Will the Iia'sidra give us what we ask?"

Phoria's mouth set in a harsh, unyielding line. "One way or another, we shall have what we need. I want you in Rhiminee, my brother."

Going to him, she took one of his large hands in hers and tugged a ring from his finger, the one set with a large black stone carved with a dragon swallowing its own tail. Smiling, she slipped it on the forefinger of her left hand. "Be ready, Kor. When this dragon comes back to you, it's time to go after another."

21 RHUI'AUROS

It won't take much acting to play the recovering invalid, will it?" Alec said as he helped Seregil dress the third morning after the beating. His friend's body showed a shocking array of purple and green bruises where it wasn't bandaged, and he still wasn't eating much except broth and Nyal's infusions.

"The act will be to convince them that I am recovered." Seregil let out a strangled groan as he eased his arms into the sleeves of his coat. "Or to convince myself."

Seregil still refused to divulge what had really happened to him that night. The fact that he seemed in better spirits since the attack bothered Alec almost as much as his friend's stubborn silence on the matter.

No sooner do I rake a few old secrets out of him than he goes and takes on a load of new ones.

"I'll come with you today," he said. "It's almost gotten interesting. The khirnari of Silmai has been taking Klia's part openly, and she's convinced the Ra'basi are about to tumble our way. You missed the banquet with them last night; most cordial, and the Viresse noticeably absent. Do you think Nyal had a hand in that?"

"He claims not to have been asked his

opinion. It could be that Ra'basi is getting tired of being under Viresse's sway." Seregil limped to the small mirror over the washstand. Evidently satisfied with what he saw there, he stretched his arms tentatively and let out another pained gasp. "Oh, yes, I'm much better!" he muttered, grimacing at his white-faced reflection. "Help me downstairs, will you? I think I can manage after that."

The others were at breakfast in the hall. Klia sat poring over a stack of new dispatches.

"Feeling better?" she asked, glancing up.

"Much," Seregil lied. He eased into a chair next to Thero and accepted a cup of tea he had no intention of drinking. The wizard was frowning over a letter.

"From Magyana?" he asked.

"Yes." Thero passed it to him and Seregil skimmed the contents, holding it so Alec could see, too.

" 'The third of Klia's dispatches reached us here yesterday. Phoria said little, but her impatience is clear, " Alec read aloud. " 'Surely some small concession can be coaxed from the Iia'sidra? otherwise, I fear she will recall you— »

"Yes, we've already seen that," Torsin told him. "A small concession, she asks for. What else have we been laboring for all these weeks?"

Seregil saw the quick glance Alec shot the envoy and knew he was recalling the man's night visit to Khatme tupa.

"I get hints of the same threat from my honored sister," Klia growled, tossing aside the letter she'd been reading. "Let her come down and see what I'm up against. It's like trying to argue with trees!" She turned to Seregil with a grimace of frustration. "Tell me, my adviser, how to make your people hurry! Time's running short."

Seregil sighed. "Let Alec and I do what we're best at, my lady."

Klia shook her head. "Not yet. The risks are too great. There must be another way."

Seregil stared into the depths of his cup, wishing his head was clear enough to think of one.

The ride to the council chamber was a tense affair. Ignoring Seregil's muttered warnings, Alec helped him mount and dismount, claiming he looked faint. By the time Seregil was finally seated in

his place just behind Klia, he was pale and sweating, but seemed to recover a little once he'd gotten his wind back.

Alec scanned the faces around the circle. Reaching the Haman contingent, he stopped, a sudden knot of tension tightening his belly. Emiel i Moranthi was grinning openly at Seregil. Catching Alec's eye, he gave him a slight, sardonic nod.

"It was him, wasn't it?" Alec grated under his breath.

Seregil merely glanced at him as if he didn't know what Alec was talking about, then motioned him to silence.

Alec looked back at Emiel, thinking, Just let me and a few friends catch you in a dark street some night soon. Or just me alone, come to that. He hoped the thought showed on his face, whatever the cost.

Seregil saw the Haman's appraising leer, but steadfastly ignored him. It was easier to carry on with the pretense that he had recognized no one in the darkness that night.