Pterocles bowed in acquiescence. "Yes, Your Majesty. Let me know when."

"I will. Obviously, not yet," Grus said.

"Yes. Obviously." Pterocles started a chuckle, but this time didn't quite finish it. His voice was altogether serious as he said, "You know, Your Majesty, I'm a little surprised – maybe more than a little surprised – that letter and that sketch made it down here safely. They had to cross an awful lot of ground the Menteshe can raid before they did."

"Funny you should say that." Grus told him the story of the courier's narrow escape from the nomads.

"That's.. interesting," Pterocles said thoughtfully. "And it's even more interesting that the two bands of Menteshe should have squabbled with each other, don't you think?"

"I did, as a matter of fact," Grus answered. "When I heard that, it made me wonder whether Sanjar's wizards really had worked out a spell to keep the Banished One from taking control of them. That envoy said they were going to try it, but I would be lying if I said I'd believed him."

"A possibility. Definitely a possibility."

By the way Pterocles said it, it wasn't a possibility he took seriously. "What were you thinking?" Grus asked him.

"Well, it did occur to me… If the gods in the heavens were going to meddle in the affairs of the material world, that's the way they might go about it. A little bit of confusion at just the right time would go a long way, and who could prove anything afterwards? Not even – him." The wizard looked south, toward the Argolid Mountains.

So did Grus. Was the Banished One gnashing his teeth down there because his henchmen hadn't caught that courier? It did seem possible. Did it seem likely? Grus pointed at Pterocles. "If – he – can't prove anything, you can't, either."

"Oh, I know that, Your Majesty," Pterocles said cheerfully. "But it does give us something to think about, doesn't it?"

Grus' wave encompassed the palisade surrounding Yozgat. "I've already got plenty to think about, thank you very much." He paused. "It would be nice, though, wouldn't it, to believe the gods in the heavens were paying a little bit of attention – just a little bit, mind you – to what's going on down here?"

"We'll see how things turn out," Pterocles said. "That may tell us something, one way or the other."

"Yes, it may," Grus said. "Question is, will it tell us anything we want to hear?"

"We'll find out," Pterocles said.

"Very good." Grus laughed and bowed. "As long as you stick to that, you can prophesy about anything."

"Being patient is a good start to the secret of all wisdom," Pterocles said.

"No doubt you're right. It's also one of the hardest things for most people to manage." Grus shook his head. "No – that's wrong. Most people can't manage it. Take me – I can hardly wait until I get to go on." He looked down at the sketch Lanius had sent. "I know what I can do in the meantime. I can go around Yozgat until I find the place where this matches up best with what I really see."

"Good," Pterocles said. "Then you'll be ready, or as ready as you can be. I didn't know the king – uh, the other king – could draw so well."

"Neither did I," Grus admitted. "Lanius.. will surprise you every now and then."

He set out on a circuit of the Avornan lines, carrying the sketch and looking from it to the walls and the city beyond them every fifty paces or so. The other king said in his letter that he'd been as precise as he knew how. Grus believed him. Lanius was precise even when he didn't particularly aim to be. When he did, he was bound to be very precise indeed.

He was bound to be – and he was. Grus looked up from the sketch to the walls after another few steps, then slowly nodded to himself. He rolled up the sketch again. He needed to go no farther. "Here," he said. "Right here."

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Lanius paced through the palace in an agony of anxiety. Every time a courier came in, he met the man and snatched the message tube out of his hands. Every time the message turned out to be something ordinary from the provinces, the king snarled in frustration. Lanius was not usually given to snarling. People sent him odd, even frightened, looks.

Rumors didn't take long to start swirling. People talked about him when they didn't think he was listening. Sometimes, though, he was just around a comer in the corridor. Some of the servants thought he and Sosia had had another fight.

Other servants were convinced he'd either quarreled with a new mistress or gotten her pregnant. Since he didn't have a mistress at the moment, that wasn't true, either. If they'd known he was worrying about whether a letter and a sketch had gotten down to Yozgat safely, they would have been convinced he'd lost his wits.

But Lanius couldn't help being snappish. The servants walked softly around him. Had his temper been of a different sort, he might have enjoyed stirring up alarm in the palace and punishing people when they did anything wrong, no matter how small. As things were, he regretted their fear when he noticed it.

Three days later, the letter he'd been waiting for finally came. He all but tackled the courier who handed him the message tube. When he recognized the royal seal on the letter, he whooped. When he broke the seal and unrolled the letter and recognized Grus' strong, simple script, he whooped again.

Your Majesty, with the gods' help I have your letter and your sketch, the other king wrote. I may even mean that instead of sticking it in for the sake of padding or decoration. The sketch is quite good, good enough to be used for its intended purpose. When all else is in readiness, we shall go forward. And, because the gods watched over what you last sent me, I dare hope they will go on looking out for our endeavors. His signature was a hasty scrawl nothing like the rest of his handwriting.

"Ha!" Lanius said, and then, "Ha!" again.

"Is the news good, Your Majesty?" the courier asked.

"The news is very good," Lanius answered. "Yes, by Olor's beard, very good indeed." He fumbled in his belt pouch. As usual, he never knew what in the way of money he would find there. A handful of silver seemed to do the job. He pressed it on the courier, saying, "And this for the good news."

"I thank you, Your Majesty." The man bowed and left.

For a little while, Lanius was as happy as he had been anxious. Some of the serving women exclaimed among themselves, guessing – wrongly – why he seemed so pleased. However mistaken, their guesses were funny and lewd, and Lanius once more had trouble not laughing out loud when he overheard them.

But his worries came back sooner than he would have liked. Grus had gotten his letter and the sketch that went with it – good. The other king would have had a harder time going forward without them. But, by themselves, they weren't enough to let him go forward. Until Lanius knew he could.. well, what was there to do but worry?

Grus eyed the newcomers to the siege line around Yozgat with no small curiosity. The two men closely resembled each other, but for a generation's difference in age. Each of them had a long face and a big nose. The older man's mustache was shot with gray, the younger one's just losing the downy look of youth. They even stood alike. They both had a slightly stagy manner, as though they never stopped performing.

And, at the moment, they both put down cups of wine as fast as they could. The older man said, "Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but if we'd known the trip down here would be the way it was, I don't think you could have found enough gold in the world to get us to make it."

"Why is that, Collurio?" Grus asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer.

The animal trainer drained his cup before replying. He filled it again from the jar of wine in Grus' pavilion. "Why?" he repeated. "I'll tell you why – because I thought we were going to get killed a dozen times, that's why."