Iraj searched his face, then relaxed, satisfied Safar had spoken the truth.

"I heard something of your difficulties, he said.

"That's how you came to find me with the circus, Safar said. There are some very dangerous men in Walaria who want my head."

"You needn't concern yourself with them any longer, Iraj said. Walaria paid most dearly for troubling you."

Safar's heart trip-hammered against his chest. What do you mean? he asked.

"Walaria is no more, Iraj answered. I turned it back into a cattle station. He casually refilled his goblet with wine, then poured some into Safar's cup. It wasn't entirely for you, he said. They were fools. They defied me, like these people here in Sampitay. It was necessary to make an example of them.

"Although in Walaria's case, I took some pleasure in dispensing justice. I thought you were dead and I was avenging you."

Safar was horrified that such a thing had been done in his name.

Iraj noted the expression on his face. His face became mournful. I'm normally a soft-hearted fellow who doesn't like to cause pain, he said. It's my father's weakness in me and I have to guard against it. You have to be stern to rule. And much blood must be shed to make a kingdom."

Safar saw moisture well in Iraj's eyes and was surprised at the depth of the emotion.

"But I never knew I'd have to shed so much of it, Iraj said, voice thick.

Then he shook himself and wiped his eyes. He forced a smile on his face.

"You saw that too when we were in the cave, didn't you, Safar? he said. When you foretold my future you seemed sad for me."

"Yes, Safar saidalmost a whisper.

"But it's my fate, so there's nothing to be done about it, Iraj said. This is a terrible world we live in. And I am the only one who make it right. If only people could see into my heart and know my true intent they wouldn't resist me. I will bring peace to this land. I will bring greatness.

"I only wish so many didn't have to suffer first."

Passion burned in Iraj's eyes and for a moment Safar could see his boyhood friend staring out at him through those eyes.

"Will you help me, Safar? Iraj pleaded. I'm not sure I can do this on my own."

Safar hesitated, a thousand thoughts crowding into his mind, competing with one another to be heard. Then, in the middle of his mental chaos, there came a scratching at the door.

Iraj looked up, irritated. In! he commanded.

Two of his guardswomen entered, an old frightened man in healer's garb between them.

"What is it! Iraj barked.

"Forgive me O Gracious Majesty, the healer burbled, this poor worm of a healer trembles in Your Highness presence. He abases himself for daring to"

Iraj waved, cutting him off. Stop driveling, man, he said. What is it?"

The healer bobbed his head, saying, I've come about the woman who was placed in my care."

"Methydia! Safar cried, leaping to his feet. What's wrong with her?"

"I fear she is dying, my lord, he said to Safar, so frightened his legs were about to give way. She calls for you, my lord. You must come quickly before it is too late!"

Iraj saw the torment in Safar's face. Go to her, he said. We'll talk later."

Safar bolted away like an arrow loosed from its bow, the healer tottering behind him as fast as he could.

When he saw her lying on the camp bed, eyes closed, face pale as bleached parchment, the troupe gathered about her weeping silent tears, he thought he was too late. And she looked old, so old he almost didn't recognize her. But as he approached her eyes came open and she was once again his beautiful Methydia.

"Safar, she said, voice faint as a specter's.

He knelt by her side and took her hand, fighting back tears.

"I must look a sight, she said, voice a bit firmer. What an awful way for a woman to greet her young swain."

"You're as beautiful as ever, my love, Safar murmured. Only a little weak from your ordeal."

"You always did lie so sweetly, Safar, Methydia said. But it isn't the time for sugary words. There's no getting around itI'm dying."

Safar clutched her hand tighter. I won't let you! he cried. But as he said it he could feel her slipping away. Stay with me, Methydia! he begged. I'll send for all the healers. I'll make a spell with them, a spell so strong not even the gods themselves could thwart me."

She smiled and he felt her rally, but faint, so faint.

"Let me tell you a secret, my sweet Safar, she said. The gods aren't listening. They aren't listening now. And they haven't been listening for a long time. I know this because I'm so close to death I can see into the Otherworlds.

"And do you know what I see?"

"What? Safar asked, voice quivering.

"The gods are asleep! So deep in their slumber that not even a thousand times a thousand voices lifted at once could raise them."

Safar thought she was raving and he kissed her, murmuring, Nonsense, Methydia. It's only a fever dream you see, not the Otherworlds."

"I wish it were, Methydia said. I wish it were."

Suddenly her eyes grew wider and she struggled to sit up. Safar gently pressed her down, begging her to be still.

"Listen to me, Safar! she cried.

"I'm listening, Methydia, Safar answered.

"Only you can wake the gods, Safar, she said. Only you!"

"Certainly, my love, Safar said. I'll do it as soon as you're well again. We'll wake them together."

"I'm not mad, she said, suddenly stern and with such strength it surprised him. I'm only dying. So don't argue with a dead woman. It isn't polite. Now listen to me! Are you listening?"

"Yes, Methydia, Safar said.

"You mustn't hate Protarus for what was done to me, she said. It was an accident of war, nothing more. Promise me you won't hate him!"

"I promise, Safar said.

"Good. Now I want another promise from you."

"Anything, my love. Anything at all."

"Go with him. Go with Protarus. Help him. It's the only way!"

"Don't ask that of me, Methydia, Safar begged. Please! Too many people are suffering."

"Ease their suffering if you can, she said. But help Protarus get his throne. The throne isn't important. It's only the first step. Protarus isn't important. He's only on the road you must follow. I don't know what's at the end of that road. But you'll know what to do when you get there.

"You'll know, my sweet Safar. You'll know."

"Please, Methydia, Safar said.

"Do you promise me, Safar Timura? Do you promise?"

"I can't, Safar said.

Methydia gripped his hand, squeezing as tight as she could. Putting her all her will and remaining strength in that grip.

"Promise me! she insisted.

"Very well, Safar cried, I promise! Just don't leave me!"

Her hand went limp. Safar looked at her, tears blurring his vision.

There was a smile on her face.

An awful wailing filled the tent as the shock sank in and the other entertainers shouted their grief.

Methydia was dead.

Safar remembered Biner's words long ago when they'd first met:

"Damn everything but the circus!"

And now that circus was no more.

Safar hurried through the encampment, roughly pushing aside anyone who got in his way. Iraj wasn't at his tent headquarters. Safar snarled at a general for directions and his manner was so fierce the scarred veteran of many wars blurted the answer as if he were green stripling.

Safar found Iraj sitting on his traveling throne, which had been moved to a point about halfway down the hillside overlooking Sampitay. On either side of the throne two tall sharpened stakes had been driven into the ground.

Queen Arma's head was mounted on one stake, Prince Crol's on the other.