should never have been chosen for the role you now occupy. The Goddess's will was not

followed when you were erroneously instated as Princess."

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Tashi put her face in her hands, not wanting them to see her shame. She had never felt worthy,

now this was publicly confirmed.

"The procedure in this case is clear. The election is to be declared null and void and a search for the correct candidate to be instigated."

The Second Crown Princess raised her hand.

"Yes, sister?"

"Are we not to vote on this?" Safilen asked, her voice tight with anger.

Korbin shook her head. "We cannot vote to uphold a corrupt election. We have no choice but to

reject the false one and quickly find a replacement."

So that was it: they were casting her out. Abruptly, Tashi got up from her seat and turned to go.

There seemed no requirement for her presence any longer and she had no stomach to sit

through deliberations on the unfortunate girl to succeed her. At least now she could return to

Holt and search for Ramil.

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That's if he still wanted her when she found him.

"Taoshira, you are not free to leave," the Third Crown Princess said severely.

"I would've thought you would be pleased," Tashi said quietly, standing with her head hung.

"Anyone who has held the office of Crown Princess cannot simply walk out and rejoin society."

"Then I'll go somewhere else, away from the Islands." Tears were running down Tashi's face. She brushed them off, angry at herself for her weakness.

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"But, I repeat, you are not free under law to do so. You must return to the Silent Court and live out your days in the seclusion of the temple."

Tashi spun round to stare in horror at Korbin. "I cannot--I will not believe that this is the

Goddess's will for me! You take away my position, my self-respect, and now my last chance to

find happiness. I beg you to show mercy."

"Child," the First Crown Princess intervened, "there is no happier being than one who has chosen to serve the Goddess in the Silent Court."

"But I do not choose it--not now, maybe not ever." Her voice cracked with panic.

"Sisters," implored Safilen, "is this necessary? Taoshira has been tested enough. Why not let her be free on her own terms?"

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"Because that is not the law," Korbin said resolutely. She turned back to Tashi. "But you may bid your family farewell before returning to the Goddess's Enclosure for the last time. There is no

law against that."

Tashi stood for a moment, feeling as if her heart was crumbling into pieces inside her. She had

nothing left to live for, no hope of rejoining Ramil, no future. Fergox had been cruel, but this was

a trial beyond any she had endured. Mechanically she walked to her grandmother, knelt, and

kissed the hem of her robe.

"Sorry," she said briefly, then left with her escort, no longer caring what became of her.

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Chapter 20

Fergox's troops had a miserable time marching as fast as they could endure from their camp on

the borders of Gerfal to the capital, Tigral--a journey of hundreds of weary miles. The wagon

train was ambushed in Brigard.

Stragglers were set upon by bandits in Kandar. By the time they reached the open plains of Holt,

they were all itching to be home and take their revenge upon the slave rebels who had caused

them to miss the conquest of Gerfal.

Riding at the head of his army on his second-best horse, Fergox knew he was paying for his

mistake of pushing ahead with expansion while

neglecting the lands he already owned. He took the lesson philosophically.

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Perhaps this slave revolt was a timely reminder. Once the revolt was crushed and the

ringleaders disposed of, he would have to impress his rule more firmly on his people. He

pondered the punishment of killing a tally of all slaves across the Empire, even those who took

no part in the rebellion. If he killed one in five that would reduce his workforce, but he could

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make sure that only the least valuable were chosen to bear the penalty. Yes, that would be

fitting and stamp out any embers of revolt. As for the one they called the Dark Prince, some

jumped-up slave currently lording it in the palace, he would be executed very slowly in the slave

market where he belonged.

Fergox camped at the last crossroads before the city walls and summoned his commanders. In

the last few miles, his forces had been swollen by those who had escaped from the city. They

brought with them tales of the ferocity of the galley slaves and the widespread unrest. Most of

the rich families had fled--if they hadn't been murdered in their beds by their own servants. The

middling folk, the shopkeepers and the tradesmen, had stayed to look alter their property,

making peace with the slave rulers, but the rich merchants predicted it wouldn't last.

Fergox executed the officers who had been in charge on the day when the palace fell as a

reminder to the others what was at stake. He then ordered his troops to form up in their ranks,

ready for the onslaught.

"We're facing a rabble army that has been fortunate enough to meet with general incompetence

from those whose blood now stains the crossroads,"

Fergox said, gesturing to the headless officers thrown ignominiously to one side. "We'll pass

through the city like a cleaver through a carcass and retake the palace. Any civilian on the streets

may be counted an enemy and treated accordingly. When we have attained our objective, you

may teach the citizens of Tigral a lesson and reward yourselves for your loyal service to me."

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The soldiers thumped their shields. It was rare that Fergox gave them free rein to take plunder

after a victory.

"Now ride out!"

The army jingled into action: the infantry marching in tight squares of fifty men, the cavalry

sweeping along behind. Fergox had no interest in retaking his capital street by street. His plan

was to capture the center of power and then assert his authority over the rest. The slaves would

probably crumble at the first sign of real soldiers. They could not possibly have any experience

or training to match. He wouldn't be surprised if he was able to stroll in and win just by the

terror of his presence.

His views seemed to be confirmed by finding the city gates wide open to receive him. There

appeared to be no one mounting a defense--surprising because at the very least he expected the

most hardened slaves to try to prevent him from entering. He sent a division of his elite cavalry

troops ahead. They clattered over the cobbles, through the gate and into the square beyond. All

the shutters on the houses edging the plaza were closed, apparently abandoned. Normally this

area was dominated by an equestrian statue of Holin, which looked uncannily like Fergox sitting

upon his stolen blue roan warhorse. Today the god had been dismounted, leaving the rearing

horse riderless.

Cautiously the cavalry rode on, alert for any sign of resistance. The commander sent outriders

ahead to tell them what lay around the bend in the road. They didn't

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come back. He was about to send word of this to Fergox when a sound behind him made him

turn in his saddle. The old portcullis, unused for years, crashed down, dividing the cavalry from

the main body of the army. A huge man stood by the gate holding an axe, having just severed