"Yet that would mean antagonizing both Lhapnos and many

members of his own clan," Torsin reminded him. "I hesitate to put too much stock in his support."

"To be honest, my lady, I'm not so sure I like the idea of you going off with them into the hills," said Beka.

Adzriel shook her head. "Whatever tensions may lie between my clan and his, I know Nazien to be a man of honor. He will watch over your princess as closely as if she were in his own fai'thast, no matter where they are."

"And I'll have you and Alec and a whole decuria of soldiers to protect me, Captain," Klia added cheerfully. "After all these weeks of formalities, I'm looking forward to a hard day's ride."

The waning moon hung low over the horizon as the Skalans and Bokthersans strolled to Viresse tupa that evening. At Seregil's suggestion, the entire delegation had dressed in their richest clothes.

"We don't want to come in looking like poor relations," he warned, guessing what lay in store for them.

Consequently, Klia was decked out like a queen. Her satin gown rustled richly as she walked arm in arm with Torsin. Aurenfaie jewels sparkled at her wrists, throat, and fingers. The gold circlet on her brow bore a crescent set with diamonds that caught even the gentle light of the moon and stars and turned them to fire. She even wore the humble Akhendi charms.

The rest were equally resplendent. Alec could have passed for royalty on the streets of Rhiminee. Beka, who would act as Klia's personal aide, was elegant in her close-fitting tabard and burnished gorget and brimmed helmet.

By the time they reached the Vhadasoori they could make out lights twinkling brightly outside the Viresse khirnari's house.

With Klia and Adzriel in the lead, they skirted the shore of the broad pool and emerged from between the stone guardians on the far side to find their host's house festooned with mage lights, artfully arranged by some talented hand in clusters among the columns of the long portico.

"It looks a bit different from the last time I was here," Alec murmured.

"At least this time you get to use the door," Seregil whispered back.

"Where's the fun in that?"

They were met by Ulan's wife, Hathia a Thana, and a gaggle of flower-bedecked children, who presented each guest with a small parchment lantern hung on a red-and-blue silk cord.

"What a pretty magic!" exclaimed Klia, holding hers up to admire the soft, shifting glow that came from within.

"It is but a reosu," Hathia demurred, welcoming them in.

"No magic to it. It's a firefly lantern," Seregil explained. "I remember making these on summer evenings as a child. But I don't recall ever seeing fireflies here in Sarikali this early in the year."

"They're quite thick in the marshes of Viresse just now," their hostess replied, leaving it to her guests to guess the expense and trouble of importing enough of the tiny insects overland for the simple pleasure of a few lanterns.

They passed through the receiving hall and continued out onto a terrace overlooking the enormous garden court at the center of the house. The spectacle that greeted them drew gasps of appreciation from everyone.

Hundreds of reosu hung in the flowering trees that ringed the garden. Others swung gently from the lines of brightly colored prayer kites rustling overhead. The walls of the courtyard were covered by swaths of crimson silk and gauze that rippled voluptuously in the evening breeze beneath garlands of gilded seashells. The soft music of flutes and cymbals came from some shadowed corner. A large crowd had already gathered in the garden, with more still arriving by various doors.

Spices and incense from half a dozen foreign lands perfumed the air, mingling with the aromas of the feast laid out on long tables hung with colorful Skalan tapestries. Ulan i Sathil had opened his doors to all in Sarikali, and it looked like he had the provender to make good on the offer.

Great antlered stags roasted whole lay between platters of birds cooked and dressed in their own plumage. Fish and seafood from the eastern coast were laid out in enormous seashells. Jellies of all descriptions quivered and gleamed next to mounds of rosy wingfish roe, huge smoked eels, and other costly delicacies. Fragrant parsley bread trenchers were stacked man-high in great wooden trays on the ground.

Pastries the size of bed pillows dominated the display. A Viresse specialty, these were shaped into fanciful beasts and decorated with edible paints and gilt. Wines glimmered with limpid fire in huge, ornate bowls carved from blocks of mountain ice.

Ulan stepped forward as they stood admiring the display. "Welcome to you, dear ladies, and to your kin and people," he said, presenting Klia with a strand of black Gathwayd pearls the size of gooseberries.

"I am most honored, khirnari," Klia replied. Removing her diamond circlet, she placed it in Hathia's hands. The making of such a lavish gift to her host's wife caused no insult, but stated without words that Klia was Ulan's equal. Her manner was flawlessly gracious, betraying nothing of her knowledge of his clandestine maneuvering.

"For someone who opposes Klia's mission, Ulan certainly hasn't stinted on the welcome," Alec remarked in an awed whisper as they followed Klia down the steps.

"This display is more for his own benefit than Klia's," Seregil noted, recognizing a show of influence when he saw one. "She'll go home eventually. He'll still be here, a force to be reckoned with each time the Iia'sidra meets."

"I have heard much of you through our friend Torsin over the years," Hathia was telling Klia. "It's said the best of your ancestors lives again in you."

"The same is said of my sister, the queen," Klia replied, just loudly enough for her voice to carry to the curious onlookers nearby. "May Aura grant that we are both worthy of such praise. You have a unique perspective on my family, having lived through so many generations of them. Ulan i Sathil, I believe you visited Skala in the days before the Edict?"

The deep creases in Ulan's cheeks deepened as he smiled. "Many times. I remember dancing with your ancestor Gerilani before she was crowned. That would be—how many generations back?"

He paused in thought, though Seregil suspected the whole exchange had been carefully rehearsed.

"Eight Tir generations back, I think?" said Hathia.

"Yes, talia, at least that long. Gerilani and I were hardly more than children at the time. Fortunate for you," he added with a twinkle in his wife's direction. "She was most enchanting."

Klia's arrival signaled the start of the feast. There were too many guests for tables; each person loaded a trencher and sat where they could, on the grass and the rims of fountains, or spreading into the rooms off the courtyard itself. The mix of opulence and informality was the hallmark of Viresse hospitality.

A succession of entertainments commenced with the banquet: musicians, jugglers, tellers of tales, dancers, and acrobats.

Seregil and Alec remained by Klia at first, watching and listening as the crowd flowed around them. Nazien i Hari was among the first to come to her, and Seregil noted with relief that Emiel and his cronies were not in evidence. Perhaps their khirnari was tired of

having his policies challenged in public. Or maybe rumors of Seregil's beating had reached the old Haman's ears at last and he was chancing no further transgressions against Sarikali law. Whatever the case, Seregil breathed a little easier without them there, and Nazien was all smiles.

"The weather promises fair. I hope we can show you good sport," Nazien said, slipping his arm through Klia's.

"A hard ride and the chance to explore a bit more of your country will be sport enough for me, Khirnari," Klia replied warmly.

Seregil signaled Alec with a discreet nudge and faded back into the surrounding crowd, leaving Klia to charm these potential allies. They had other work to do.