Thyatis perked up, her whole attention focusing on the princess. Shirin seemed oddly at peace, her features calm and her voice light.

“This was the first witness of the battle to reach the cap ital. He had ridden very hard, killing many horses. It was as had been rumored. The Boar was laid low and his standard captured. All of the great lords and captains were killed or taken by the enemy. Of the two hundred thousand men who marched north, only a few thousands escaped to the south. Gundarnasp fell, as did the Lord Rhazames and many others known to me.“

“And the Roman army?” Thyatis held her breath.

“Messengers came too from Nineveh in the north, on the Tigris. The Romans are only a few weeks away. They must have marched swiftly to reach the warm lands before winter closed the passes in the north. The governor of Nineveh has ordered the bridges over the rivers and canals destroyed.”

Shirin paused, staring at Thyatis with that same calm look.

“What else?” Thyatis asked, disturbed by the equanimity of the princess.

“No Khazars have come south with the Roman army. Zarmihr saw that many barbarians were in the army of the two Emperors but did not know their banners. The King of Kings questioned him closely as to the presence of my kinsmen, but Zarmihr saw none of them.”

Thyatis pursed her lips and considered the Princess, who looked down, her face lit from within by a smile, and resumed stitching. “You are free to leave the palace again?”

“No,” Shirin said, looking up briefly, her lips in a moue, “but soon I will be. My husband will soon be at ease. The magistrates and lords who whisper to him will have nothing to say. My children will be safe.”

“You see no reason,” Thyatis said slowly, considering her words carefully, “to leave the palace in secret, with your uncle and me?!‘

“Oh, no,” the Princess said. “Within the month things will as usual again.”

The Roman woman rubbed her nose, thinking, then rose. “My lady, this is excellent news. I will tell your uncle and we will make preparations to take our leave. I am sorry you had a fright.“

“Oh”-Shirin laughed-“it’s nothing! In a few days you’ll be able to leave peacefully.”

“Talk to me,” Thyatis said, her voice clipped, once more mewed up in her room with Nikos, Jusuf, and Anagathios. “What are the servants and slaves saying?”

Nikos frowned, his broad face grim. He exchanged looks with Anagathios. “It is very bad. ‘Gathios saw three of the lesser nobles leave today with their families. Those were the smart ones. More will be slipping out tonight. The word in the baths is that the King of Kings has slipped right over the edge. He declared that this disaster at the Kerenos is only a minor setback. He collared two of the remaining big hats here and sent them off to raise a new army from the citizens of the polis. He wants a hundred thousand men.”

Jusuf snorted, shaking his head. “If two hundred thousand men were slaughtered up north, there aren’t another hundred thousand fighting men in the whole empire. What is this King of nothing going to do, arm the slaves?”

Nikos face settled into grimmer lines. “Women and children is what I heard. Kitchen knives and sharpened poles. Whatever they can find in the city. Old men too, I’d imagine.”

“Will they do it?” Thyatis said, her fingers twitching on the hilt of her sword. “Are they afraid enough of Chrosoes to drive the citizens out into the fields to face Galen?”

Jusuf laughed at her, but his voice was trembling.

“Nikos, are the palace guards and city watch enough to do that?”

The Illyrian met her eyes and shook his head. “No, there are only a handful of guardsmen left-maybe a hundred- and the city watch isn’t going to drive their families out onto the swords of the legions. Besides”-and he smiled a little, his lip curling up-“the two nobles set to this task have already bolted. They left everything behind, concu Shadow of Ararat bines and all, and shot out of the city like a stone from a mangonel.“

“Good.” Thyatis stared out the window, her eyes distant. “I promised Shirin I would not kill her husband.” She turned to the Syrian. Anagathios, she signed, are you sure about this water gate in your hidden garden?

The actor shrugged, his hands languid as doves in the close air of her room.“

You didn’t ask the Princess? he replied.

No, I was going to ask her today, but now we’ll have to do it without her help.

Then I cannot say for sure. It seems that the garden is part of the King of Kings personal quarters and the lower gate must lead down to the water side. But without getting a boat and checking the bank, I cannot say.

Thyatis punched her thigh in frustration. Jusuf and Nikos, who had only caught a little of the.quick conversation, watched her in concern.

“Everything is a bad bet,” she snarled. “So we go for the Venus throw. Nikos, get everything and everyone ready- quietly-for a quick exit. Jusuf, you have to stick to Shirin like glue. When things finally come loose around here it’s going to be very ugly. We don’t want to lose her or the children in the confusion. ‘Gathios-you’ve got to find a better way into that garden. I don’t think Shirin is going to be able to climb down a drain like the rest of us.”

She stood up. The three men nodded. “Good, get to it.”

After they were gone, she stood at the window, clicking the sword in and out of its sheath. The sky was turning dusky purple. The rooftops were already steeped in darkness. She sighed, rubbing her nose. Sahul, why didn’t you come south? What happened in the north?

THE DAMASCUS GATE, PALMYRA

The midmorning air trembled with a booming shock. Dust rose in a great pillar over the rooftops of the city. The sky was very blue, almost pure undiluted color, scrubbed clean of any clouds or impurities. The dust rose up, a bone-colored smear against the deep blue. Mohammed turned from the doorway, his face graven with weariness. His eyes were old in a still-young face. The kaffieh that was wound around his head and trailed over his shoulder was dirty and spotted with old blood. His breastplate was scored and marked with dozens of tiny dimples where spears, swords, arrows had been turned aside by the stout metal. His hands were marked with many cuts and stiff bandages were tied between his fingers. Still, his right hand rode easily on the pommel of a well-used saber.

“My Queen,” he said to the darkened room, “I must go to the gate. The Persians will come again in strength.”

“Is this the last day?” came a murmur from the darkness. There was a slithering sound as silk sheets rustled and fell away. In the dim light, the Southerner could see a pale blur rise up and slowly swim into focus as it came toward him. He bowed and took the hand of the woman.

“It may be,” he said, his voice gravelly with the strain of a hundred days of shouting commands. “There is something in the air… perhaps the wizard will show himself. If he does, then the gate will fail and the Persian will walk the streets of the city.”

Zenobia squeezed his hand, her long fingers firm.

“I shall command the people of the city to retire to the palace,“ she said. ”If the gate falls, then we will fight on here. Mohammed…“

He released her hand. Her shift was plain soft cotton, falling to her ankles, and her hair was loose and uncombed, a tangled cloud, around her neck and shoulders.

The southerner raised a hand, his fingers to her lips. “Say nothing, my lady. I choose to stand with my friends. I do not regret it, though it grieves me to see that your dream has died. I was lost for many years. In this struggle I have found purpose, short-lived though it may be, and I am well pleased for it.”

The Queen smiled, her eyes sparkling in the dim light. The press of events had finally stirred her from the death-watch that had possessed her for so long.