"Don't worry about me." He took her arm gently and made her sit. "It's about time I stood up to your father. I'm sure it will be good for me."

Her face clouded. "Master ... if he hurts you ..."

"All you need to worry about is finding Giles and bringing him back. Justice must be done.

Good luck, Claudia." He raised her hand and kissed it formally. For a moment she was stricken with the thought that she would never see him again; all she wanted to do was jump up and hug him, but he moved away to the panel of instruments and looked up.

"Ready?"

She couldn't speak. She nodded. And then, just before his fingers touched the panel, she said hurriedly, "Good-bye, Master."

He pressed the blue square, and it happened. From the ceiling slots a cage of white light fell, so blindingly brilliant and so quick that it was gone as soon as it had come, and all he could see was the black aftermath imprinted on his retina.

He brought his hands away from his face.

The room was empty. He could smell a faint sweetness.

"Claudia?" he whispered.

Nothing. For a long moment he waited in the silence. He wanted to stay, but he had to get out of the study; the Warden must not know what had happened for as long as possible, and if they found him here ... Hurriedly he slammed the controls back, slid out through the great bronze door, and locked it behind him.

All the way up through the cellars Jared sweated with fear. There must be some alarm he had overlooked, some screaming trigger his scanner had failed to detect. At every step he expected to hurtle into the Warden or a posse of Palace guards, and by the time he came up to the formal corridors, he was pale and shivering and had to lean in an alcove and take deep, careful breaths, a passing maid staring at him curiously.

In the Great Hall, the crowd's noise was louder. As he threaded among them he sensed the growing tension, the expectation heightened almost to hysteria. The staircase that

Claudia should descend was in full view, lined by footmen in powdered wigs. As he slipped into a seat by the fireplace he saw the Queen, glorious in cloth of gold and a tiara of diamonds, flicker an irritated glance at it.

But brides were always late.

Jared leaned back and stretched out his legs. He was lightheaded with fear and fatigue and yet he felt something else that surprised him: a strange peace. He wondered how long it would last.

Then he saw the Warden.

Tall and grave, the man who was not Claudia's father. Jared watched as the Warden smiled, nodded, exchanged graceful small talk with the waiting courtiers. Once he took out his watch and glanced at it, held it to his ear as if in all the hubbub he needed to check it was going. Then he put it away and frowned.

Impatience grew, slowly.

The crowd murmured. Caspar came over and said something to his mother, she spoke to him sharply, and he went back to his supporters. Jared watched the Queen.

Her hair was swept up elaborately, her lips red in the whitened pallor of her face, but her eyes were cool and shrewd and he recognized the growing suspicion in them.

She crooked a finger and the Warden moved to her side. They spoke briefly. A servant was called, a smooth silver-haired steward, and he bowed and vanished discreetly.

Jared rubbed his face.

It must be panic up there in her rooms, the maids searching for her, fingering the dress, terrified for their own skins. Probably they had all fled. He hoped Alys wouldn't be there-the old nurse would be blamed.

He leaned back against the wall and tried to summon up all his courage.

He didn't have long to wait.

There was a disturbance on the stairs. Heads turned. Women craned to see, a rustle of dresses and faint applause that petered out into bewilderment, because the silver-haired servant was racing down, breathless, and in his hands he had the dress, or rather what was left of it.

Jared wiped sweat from his lip. He had never seen Claudia so furious as when she had torn it to shreds.

Confusion erupted.

A scream of anger, orders, the clash of weapons. Slowly, Jared stood.

The Queen was white-faced; she turned on the Warden. "What is this? Where is she?"

His voice was icy. "I have no idea, madam. But I suggest ..."

He stopped. His gray eyes met Jared's through the agitated crowd.

They looked at each other and in the sudden growing hush the crowd noticed and fell back between them, as if people feared to stand in that corridor of anger.

The Warden said, "Master Jared. Do you know where my daughter is?"

Jared managed a small smile. "I regret I cannot say, sir. But I can say this. She has decided against the wedding." The crowd was utterly silent.

Her eyes glittering with wrath, the Queen said, "She's jilted my son?"

He bowed. "She has changed her mind. It was sudden, and she felt she could not face either of you. She has left the Palace. She begs your indulgence."

Claudia would hate that last, he thought, but he had to be so careful. He steeled himself for the reaction. The Queen gave a laugh of pure venom; she turned on the "warden." My dear John, what a blow for you! After all your plans and schemes! I have to say I never thought it a very good idea. She was so ... unsuitable. You chose your replacement so badly."

The "wardens eyes never left Jared's, and the Sapient felt that basilisk stare slowly petrify his courage." Where has she gone?

Jared swallowed. "Home."

"Alone?"

"Yes."

"In a carriage?"

"On horseback."

The Warden turned. "A patrol after her. At once!" Did he believe it? Jared wasn't sure.

"Of course I pity your domestic troubles," the Queen said cruelly, "but you realize that I will never suffer an insult like this again. There will be no wedding, Warden, even if she comes back crawling on her hands and knees."

Caspar muttered, "Scheming ungrateful bitch," but his mother silenced him with a look.

"Clear the chamber," she said sharply. "I want everyone out."

As if it was a signal, an uproar of voices burst out, excited questions, shocked whispers.

Through it all Jared stood still, and the Warden stood watching him, and there was a look in those eyes the Sapient could not beat now. He turned away.

"You stay." John Arlex's order was hoarse and unrecognizable.

"Warden." Lord Evian pushed up close to them. "I have just heard ... such news ... is it true?"

His affectations were gone; he was pale with intensity. "True. She's gone." The Warden spared him one grim glance. It's over.

"Then ... the Queen?"

"Remains the Queen."

"But... our plan ..."

The Warden silenced him with a flash of anger. "Enough, man! Don't you hear what I say?

Go back to your puffs and perfumes. It's all we have now."

As if he could not understand what had happened, Evian clawed restlessly at his tight ruffled suit, tugging a button loose. "We can't let it end like this."

"We have no choice."

"All our dreams. The end of Protocol." He reached his hand inside the coat. "I can t. I won't."

He moved in before Jared realized what was happening, the knife flashing out, slashing down at the Queen. As she turned, it caught her high on the shoulder; she screamed in shock. Instantly the cloth of gold was running with blood, small spatterings and trickles that welled up as she gasped and clawed at Caspar, stumbling into the arms of courtiers. "Guards!" the Warden cried.