"Soldiers!" Pitta added. Lanius wasn't at all sure she cared about them, but she wasn't going to let her brother get away with anything.

"They'll be here soon," Lanius promised. "Be patient, both of you."

They looked at him as though the word did not belong to the Avornan language. As far as they were concerned, it didn't.

Anser was also there to greet the returning army. Even dressed in the arch-hallow's red robe, he looked as though he would rather be hunting. Sosia and Estrilda had made the journey as well. Grus' daughter and wife talked quietly with each other. Lanius suspected he was lucky he could not hear what they were saying.

Ortalis and Limosa had stayed back at the royal palace. Limosa could use her pregnancy as an excuse for not getting on horseback. Ortalis? Ortalis rarely showed any interest in Grus' campaigns – or in doing anything that would please his father. In a way, that was a relief to Lanius. In another way, he thought it was too bad.

Scouts rode past, saluting Lanius and the rest of the royal family and the arch-hallow – who was also part of the royal family, even if he was on the wrong side of the blanket. More horsemen trotted by. Then Grus came into sight, guardsmen in front of him and behind him, Hirundo on his right, Pterocles on his left. The leading guardsmen reined in. So did Grus, when he was directly in front of Lanius. He inclined his head. "Your Majesty."

"Your Majesty," Lanius echoed. He hated giving Grus the royal title. He did it as seldom as he could. Grus seldom tried to force it from him. Here, though, he didn't see what choice he had. If he insulted Grus by refraining in front of the army, which was the other king's instrument… No good would come of that.

Still speaking formally, Grus went on, "We have taken the arms of Avornis beyond the Stura River. We have defeated the Menteshe in battle. We have taken the city of Trabzun, with many smaller towns. We have freed thralls beyond counting from the evil magic of the Banished One."

Lanius had wondered if he would dare name the exiled god, and admired his nerve for doing so. Lanius also heard the pride under Grus' formality. Like Grus or not, the other king had earned the right to be proud. No King of Avornis since the loss of the Scepter of Mercy could say what he had just said.

"It is well. It is very well," Lanius replied. "All of Avornis rejoices in what you and your men have done."

"I thank you, Your Majesty," Grus said.

"I thank you, Your Majesty," Lanius said. If he was going to give Grus his due, best to give with both hands. He went on, "The kingdom and the city of Avornis have remained at peace behind you." After Grus' vaunting claims, that one seemed small, but it was the most Lanius could offer.

Grus could have mocked him for it. He could have, but he didn't. "That is the best news you could give me, Your Majesty," he said. "May I never hear anything less." Along with Hirundo and Pterocles and the guardsmen, he took his place with Lanius and the other members of the royal family.

Greeting Grus was hard enough for Lanius. Reviewing the soldiers who rode and marched into the capital was harder, in a different way; Lanius had to fight to keep boredom from overwhelming him. One thing court life trained him in, though – not showing what he thought. The men who saluted and received his answering salutes had no idea that he would rather have been almost anywhere else.

At last, there were no more soldiers. Lanius let out a silent sigh of relief. Grus still seemed fresh and resilient. "Shall we go into the city, Your Majesty?" he said.

"Yes, let's." Lanius' voice showed only polite acquiescence, not the quivering eagerness he really felt.

As he and Grus had watched soldiers go by – endlessly – so the people of the capital lined up to watch the royal family and high functionaries return to the palace. Lanius didn't care to have so many people he didn't know staring at him. That was one reason he went out into the city of Avornis only rarely. Being the center of all eyes didn't seem to bother Grus. Hirundo, for his part, reveled in it. He smiled and waved and, whenever he saw a pretty girl, blew kisses.

Under cover of the shouts from the people, Lanius said, "The spell to free the thralls works as it should, then?"

"So it would seem." Grus nodded, partly to Lanius and partly, Lanius thought, to himself. "Yes – so it would seem. Pterocles and the other wizards did a fine job."

"Very glad to hear it," Lanius said. "Next campaigning season, then, you'll… move farther south?" He didn't want to speak of Yozgat, much less of the Scepter of Mercy.

"That's what I have in mind, yes," Grus answered. "I think we'll also have to see what, ah, happens this winter, though."

What the Banished One does, Lanius translated. "What do you think will happen?" he asked.

"I don't know," Grus said. "That's what I told you – we'll just have to see."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Every time a cloud rolled across the sky, Grus worried. Every time rain fell, he frowned. Every time a funeral procession wound through the city of Avornis taking a body to its pyre, he bit his lip. Every time a fire broke out, he grimaced. Every time anything went on, he jumped more nervously than one of Lanius' moncats.

The other king noticed. That told Grus how nervous he must have been, for Lanius failed to notice a good many things. "What is troubling you?" Lanius asked. "You should be happy. If you're not happy now, seeing what you did south of the Stura, when will you be?"

"It's because of what I did south of the Stura that I'm not so happy now," Grus answered. Lanius looked baffled. Grus glanced around. You never could tell when a servant might be listening – or when someone else might be listening through a servant's ears. "Where can we talk without being overheard?" "Why, the archives, of course," Lanius said. Grus laughed, more in surprise than for any other reason. The archives weren't of course to him; he could count on the fingers of one hand the times he'd gone into them since becoming king. But that didn't mean Lanius was wrong. "Let's go, then."

Men bowed and women dropped curtsies as the two kings walked through the palace. Grus nodded back. So did Lanius, when he happened to see them – which was about half the time. The younger king chatted about this and that till he closed the heavy doors to the archives behind himself and Grus. Then his attention sharpened. "Well?" he asked.

Before answering, Grus looked up at the smeared skylights. The piles and crates of documents, the dusty sunshine, the musty smell… Yes, this was a place that suited Lanius. The other king belonged here, the way Grus belonged on the deck of a river galley. This was where Lanius would be at his best. Grus repeated, "Because of what I did south of the Stura." He went on, "Now I have to wonder what the Banished One will do on account of it."

"Ah." Lanius might be vague when it came to people, but not to something like that. "Do you think we'll have another one of those unnatural winters? Shall we start laying in extra grain again?"

"It wouldn't be a bad idea," Grus replied. "Or he might do something different. A pestilence, maybe. Maybe something else. No way to tell what, not until it happens. But something."

He waited to see what Lanius thought. Yes, the other king might be blind to a lot of the human drama that went on around him, but he was nobody's fool. He said, "I think you're likely to be right. And I wish I could tell you that you were likely to be wrong."

"So do I," Grus said.

"What does Pterocles think of this?" Lanius asked.

"That I'm likely to be right," Grus answered.

"Anything more? Does he have some better notion of what the Banished One might try?"