"I expected no less of a prince." Fergox regarded Ramil with approval. "Still, perhaps it was as well to punish the cub."

Ramil clenched his fists. A prince of Gerfal, a cub? Fergox spoke as if the ac Burinholts were

already under his dominion.

Fergox gave Ramil a curt nod in greeting. "Prince Ramil, I have ordered suitable quarters to be

made ready for your accommodation. We have much to talk about but doubtless you would first

like to rest yourself after your journey."

Ramil had to speak. "No, I first demand to be

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released. There is no war declared between Gerfal and Holt. Bringing me here as a prisoner--

abducting me in my own lands--these are scandalous acts, unworthy of a noble. I demand--"

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"Tush, tush!" Fergox waved Ramil away as if he were a bothersome child having a tantrum. "We are beyond all that now, surely you realize that, Prince Ramil? Seizing you was my declaration of

war. There will be time enough to discuss all this later." He turned away from Ramil, dismissing

him.

"But what of the Princess? Where is she? You did bring her, didn't you, Orboyd?"

The circus man tugged at his collar. "I did, sir, but she hurt herself when trying to escape."

"He lies," Ramil said angrily. "He beat her senseless."

Fergox's face darkened.

"That's not it at all," Orboyd protested, rushing to excuse himself. "The boy didn't see anything.

You know, sir, what these Blue Crescent infidels are like, so cunning, so wicked. The witch used

her spells to slip away and . . .

and fell out of a tree."

"Where is she?" snapped Fergox.

"In the wagon over there," Orboyd said quickly. "She's received the best nursing from us despite her evil ways and is nearly fully recovered."

In an ill-humor now, Fergox slapped his gloves into his hand and strode over to the fortune-

teller's wagon. He leapt up the step at the rear and threw the canvas aside. Light streamed into

the darkness, striking a mass of golden hair spread out on a shabby sheepskin.

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Tashi woke abruptly to see a dark figure of a man silhouetted in the entry.

She raised herself on an elbow, trying to make out who it was.

"Gordoc?" she asked hoarsely. It had been hours since anyone had given her water.

The man kicked the furs aside and knelt beside her. It wasn't Gordoc, or anyone from the circus.

He was a complete stranger, but he was looking at her with intense blue eyes. Then he reached

out, touched her hand and raised it to his lips.

"My little Tashi," he said, letting her hand fall gently back onto the covers.

Tashi's heart gave a wild skip of joy. He knew her true name. "Have you come to save me, sir?"

He nodded. "Yes, I've come to save you. This whole journey has been merely a step on the path

to your salvation."

Tashi lay back on her bed, feeling at peace for the first time in months. "The Mother sent you.

She hasn't abandoned me," she whispered.

The man shook his head. "No, not the Mother. She is a blasphemy; she does not exist, just a fair

mask put on by evil powers. You are deluded and misguided but soon all that will be behind

you."

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"No," gasped Tashi, hugging the covers to her chest. "That's not true!"

She flinched as he ran a finger down her cheek, his expression hungry. He must have been a

demon sent to tempt her to despair. Her fever could not yet have broken; this was a horrible

dream.

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"Rest, Princess, there is much you must do for me. I need you well and looking your best." He nodded, pleased with what he saw. "My Tashi. My agents chose well for me when they had you

elected."

He jumped back out of the wagon, letting the canvas fall back into place.

Tashi touched her cheek, the skin still burning where he had caressed her.

How did he know her name? What did he mean when he said that his

agents had chosen her? She was chosen by the Goddess, by the priests of Kai, not by a man from

the East with a cruel mouth.

The wagon trundled up the cobbled streets. Tashi could hear the jingle of bridles, hooves, and

people shouting in the streets.

"Come see the Prince!" they called.

She closed her eyes. So Ramil had not even managed to get away. Could the boy not do anything

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right?

"Orboyd's caught a witch too!" someone shouted.

The cry was taken up and passed from house to house. "A prince and a witch! A prince and a

witch!"

Tashi lay quietly on her bed, thankful that she was hidden away. She couldn't understand how

these people confused her beliefs with witchcraft.

Where she came from, witches were said to dabble in dark powers, exerting their will over

others to harm them. But she had touched no one, barely spoken, tried to be as self-effacing as

possible and yet still they said these terrible things about her. What had she done to deserve it?

The wagon drew to a halt and the canvas side was lifted.

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She sat up to find Orboyd standing over her. It was the first time she had seen him since he had

struck her and she could not repress a shiver of fear.

"We're here," he said curtly. "Gordoc, carry her inside."

Her one-time protector made the wagon creak as he clambered aboard. He knelt beside her,

reached to touch her hair but stopped himself.

"I'm sorry, little one, I broke my word. I didn't stop them hurting you," he said sadly. "But come now, here we part. Let me carry you inside. You'll be well looked after from now on."

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Tashi caught a glimpse of Ramil being led into an archway in the castle courtyard as she was

taken through a doorway on the opposite side. Gordoc followed an old maid up the spiral

staircase to a room at the top. The woman unlocked the door and ushered them into a

comfortable bedchamber, a copper bath already full of water in front of a fire. The hangings

were rich but, to Tashi's Blue Crescent eyes, too loud and busy, depicting the confusion of the

hunt and war. They clamored from the wall like a fanfare of trumpets, not the subtle whisper of

the silks hanging in her chambers back in Rama.

Gordoc placed her in an armchair.

"Farewell, Princess," he said with a bow.

"Thank you, Gordoc. You've been . . . been kind," Tashi said, sorry to see him go. When he was around, she had always been sure of having someone to speak up for her, even if he couldn't

protect her.

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Gordoc bowed again and shuffled out, leaving her alone with the maid. The woman was

watching her nervously.

Tashi sighed. "What's your name?" she asked, used to the hostile stares of these Easterners.

"Mergot," the woman said, adding no "my lady" or "your highness." Tashi let it pass.

"And who is your master, Mergot?"

"Lord Gunston, but that weren't him you saw earlier." Mergot began to unbutton the back of

Tashi's filthy white shift without so much as a "by your leave."

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Tashi resigned herself to this treatment. Clearly she was expected to bathe and hopefully

change into some fresh clothes. She felt weak but had no objection to the plan, so she allowed

Mergot to continue.

"So who did I speak to earlier?" She had thought him a demon conjured up by her illness, but it appeared he was flesh and blood, which was far more terrifying. Shakily, Tashi took Mergot's