"Forgive me, Sire," the messenger said, bowing to him now that his orders had been heeded. "I was commanded that I waste not a minute in delivering my message. But you have to be able to hear it and understand it, too. This message is from the Council, without dissent. I wear on my neck this collar, secured with a truth knot that confirms my words are truth."

The man stepped forward, bent, and opened his shirt collar so that Dagon could study the thin rope tied about his neck. Sire Dagon yanked at it, pulling it close. To an untrained eye the knot that closed the circle looked like the confusion a child might create, but in its loops and bunches was an intricacy that was very practiced, indeed. And there could be no mistaking its authenticity. The messenger had been sent by the League Council.

Sire Dagon motioned for the man to step away. Regaining his dignity, he said, "I am listening."

And so he sat hearing about the horror that had emerged from Sire Neen's mistakes. In the space of few moments everything changed. All their hopes, their plans, all of it would have to wait. Instead, he would have to compose lies faster than ever before. He would have to win the queen's trust, for they would need her armies in the war that was coming.

A few hours later Sire Dagon traversed the terraces and stairways that would lead him to the queen, a messenger himself now. She would not be easy to gain an audience with. Sire Dagon knew the things she had recently occupied herself with. Apparently, she had managed to capture Barad the Lesser. What a stir this had caused among the nobles! All the work of some agent of hers, one Delivegu, a lucky man, and now one officially acknowledged at court. Word of the capture had spread among the common folk, so that whatever benefit there was in it was not immediately obvious. Indeed, a rumor spread that she had mutilated Barad. Cut out his eyes and shoved stones in their places. Still others said she cursed him through sorcery. It was the sort of mad talk that might have sparked the man's rebellion into life, but Corinn had finally ordered the distribution of a new wine. In so doing, she belatedly fulfilled the league's wishes, but that was so often the case. She had also politely but firmly sent King Grae back to his homeland. The leaguemen were not entirely sure what to make of that, but there was something of interest beneath the surface of it surely. With all this happening, Corinn had every right to consider herself tied up in a web of complications. How very simple such things would seem to her by the end of this day!

Just outside the queen's quarters, Sire Dagon stood with his arms outstretched as a Marah searched him for hidden daggers. He tried to keep his gaze forward, his face wrinkled with annoyed tolerance. The last thing he wanted to do was look at any of the Numrek, two of whom stood watching. But his eyes had wills of their own. They flicked over long enough to confirm-damn it-that the guards on either side of the door were looking at him. Was there anything to be read in their craggy features? He was not sure. Stupid! Control yourself, he thought. Without showing it, he breathed deep and slow, steadying himself. Leaguemen controlled their emotions, not the other way around. Before he was waved through, he even resorted to the silent counting regime he had been taught as a boy, arithmetic exercises that he conducted in the back of his mind and that helped render his face expressionless.

"All right," the Marah said, "you may enter. Forgive the formality, sire." He stood to the side and motioned toward the corridor.

Sire Dagon gave him a look meant to indicate that he knew very well where he was going. It is what he would have done in normal circumstances. Again, though, his eyes chose to disobey him. Tremulous, they slid to the side as he passed and, yes, the Numrek to his left was watching him! No mistaking it. The beast had been observing him with more than casual interest.

Once in the corridor, the leagueman quickened his step, trying to walk quietly and listen for any indication that the Numrek was following. He had to pass another two Numrek milling about the anteroom, but he managed it without mishap. Once in the front office proper, he swept in on Rhrenna, tripping on the edge of the carpet and banging his leg against a divan.

The secretary frowned at him. "Sire Dagon…"

He did not slacken his strides. Reaching out with one hand, he clamped his claw around the woman's elbow, wrenching her into motion. She called out in protest, but he shushed her savagely. "Be silent! Your life depends on this!"

The piper sitting in the corner near the queen's actual door did not pay enough attention to look perplexed. He just glanced at the two rushing forward and lifted his flute to announce their presence. He had sounded but a few notes before Sire Dagon opened the queen's door. He swirled in and shoved it closed again a moment later, releasing Rhrenna as he did. It was all an unaccustomed amount of physical activity for the man, enough to leave him panting.

Corinn had been on her balcony. She stepped back into the dimmer light inside, studying the two with an unreadable but certainly not welcoming expression.

"Your Majesty!" Dagon bowed quickly, sucking a few breaths as he did so. "I am here to tell you everything. Everything, without the slightest deception. First, though, have you a secret room? A safe room?"

"What-"

Moving toward her, he said, "You do, of course! I know you do. A room that you can enter from these chambers, that only you have the key to and that you can lock. Where is it?"

"Sire Dagon, I-"

"No!" he said. "Not now. In a safe place. Get us there. Then we talk. Please, Corinn. Your very life is in danger. Please!"

The queen crossed her arms. "I'm in my chambers, with my guards but a shout away. From whom am I in danger? I see only one madman at the moment."

"Oh, you stubborn thing! Fine."

As she watched-now visibly shocked by his outbursts-Sire Dagon brushed past her. He inspected one corner of the room quickly, looking high and low. He measured a few steps to the side, and then grasped the tapestry he found there along its bottom edge. With a flourish, he flung it to the side, sending the needlework depiction of a sunset behind the Senival mountains rippling toward the floor tiles. And there it was! As he knew it would be. Nothing more than two depressions at waist height in the stone, each about the size of the heel of a child's hand. He pressed his against both and pushed. For a moment the wall was as immobile as it looked. He cursed. He heard one of the women whisper something. He cursed again. And then remembered. He pressed harder on the right hand than the left. Of course. A door-sized portion of the wall gave way, suddenly smooth and light before his hands.

"There," he said, turning, panting. "Now you know that we know of this. Would I betray that information without cause? Please, come in with me. I'll tell you everything once we are inside."

The queen glanced at Rhrenna. Sire Dagon knew some message passed between them, but he was too fatigued to riddle it out. Not that he needed to. By the Giver, he had just revealed a secret hundreds of years old, one that by itself changed everything about the trust between the Akarans and the league. He hoped it worked. Of course, if it did not, the queen would likely be dead within the hour.

Without speaking a word or looking him in the face, Corinn moved past him, through the opening. Rhrenna followed, her blue eyes hard on his. Dagon slipped in behind them. He made sure the wall fit snugly back into place, and then he stepped away from it. From this side, the roughhewn stone, which appeared to be lit from above by an opening to the sky, betrayed no sign of the door. Only at his feet, where a fan of thick dust had been swept aside, was there a sign to confirm he had just passed through the wall. How strange to finally be here. He had known of this place since his early days in his office, but never knew that he would see it himself.