Cassander saw her come without pleasure. His greeting was lofty. "Well then, Madouc! I should think that you would be in your element! Now is your chance to mingle with the society of Avallon!"

"I have already done so."

"Then why are you not dancing, and gamboling about, and impressing the young folk with your wit?"

"I might ask the same of you."

Cassander responded curtly. "Tonight such entertainment fails to match my mood, nor that of Prince Dhrun. Such being the case-"

Madouc looked at Dhrun. "You too are satiated and world-weary?"

"Perhaps not to the level described by Prince Cassander," said Dhrun, grinning.

Cassander frowned. He told Madouc: "Yonder stands Prince Raven of Pomperol. Why do you not discuss your theories with him?"

"Not just now. I also feel somewhat blasé. Where did you two go to avoid the demands of society?"

Cassander said coldly: "We went elsewhere, to enjoy a few moments of quiet."

"Cassander, you are resourceful! In revelry of this scale, where does one find privacy?"

"Here, there, one place or another," said Cassander. "It is all beside the point."

"Still, I am curious."

Dhrun said: "Prince Cassander wished to visit the Hall of Heroes, so that he might honour an old tradition."

"So now: the truth emerges!" said Madouc. "Cassander is not so nonchalant as he pretends. What tradition did Cassander feel obliged to honour?"

Cassander spoke peevishly: "It is only a whim, no more! Princes of royal blood who sit even a moment on the throne Evandig are assured of a long life and a fortunate reign-such is the legend."

"That is a very obscure legend," said Madouc. "Dhrun, did you honour this tradition as well?"

Dhrun gave an uncomfortable laugh. "Prince Cassander insisted that I share these benefits with him."

"That was kind of Prince Cassander! And you sat at the Round Table as well?"

"For a moment or two."

Madouc heaved a sigh. "Well then, now that you have been soothed by the privacy, do you remember that you promised to dance with me?"

Dhrun looked puzzled for only an instant, then said: "So I did! Prince Cassander, my excuses."

Cassander gave his head a crisp nod. "Dance away!"

Madouc took Dhrun not to the dance floor but to the shadows at the side of the hall. "Think now," she said. "When you sat on the throne, did you speak?"

"Only to fulfill the terms of the tradition, as Cassander explained it to me. When he sat on the throne he uttered an order, that I should step forward a pace. I did the same in my turn."

Madouc gave a fateful nod. "So now you must fear for your life. You may die at any instant."

"How so?"

"I have been trying to tell you of Persilian's prophecy. It guides every hour of your life!"

"What is the prophecy?"

"It goes to the effect that the first-born son of the Princess Suldrun-that is to say, you-will take his rightful place at Cairbra an Meadhan and rule from the throne Evandig before his death. You have now fulfilled the prophecy! You have sat at the table and you have given an order while sitting on Evandig, and now Casmir will put his assassins to work. You may be killed this very night!"

Dhrun was silent for several moments. "I thought Cassander's conduct somewhat odd! Is he aware of the prophecy?"

"That is hard to guess. He is vain and foolish, but not altogether unkind. Still, he would obey King Casmir's orders, no matter where they led."

"Even to murder?"

"He would obey orders. But he need not do so, since King Casmir brought others with all the needful skills."

"It is a chilling thought! I will be on my guard! Three good knights of Troicinet are with me and they shall stay close by my side."

"When does your father arrive?"

"Tomorrow, or so I believe. I will be glad to see him!"

"I as well."

Dhrun looked down into Madouc's face. He bent his head and kissed her forehead. "You did your best to spare me this peril. I thank you, my dear Madouc! You are as clever as you are pretty!"

"This is a most successful gown," said Madouc. "The color is called Black Rose and by some freak it goes nicely with my hair. The style also seems to enhance what I suppose I must call my posture. I wonder, I wonder!"

"What do you wonder?"

"You remember King Throbius, of course."

"I remember him well. On the whole he was benign, if a trifle foolish."

"Just so. For certain reasons, he laid a glamour upon me, which caused a great excitement and, to tell the truth, frightened me with its awful power. To relieve myself of the force, I was instructed to pull at my right ear with fingers of my left hand. Now I wonder if I pulled hard enough!"

"Hmm," said Dhrun. "It is difficult to say."

"I could pull again, for the sake of honesty and reassurance. Still, if I instantly became a ragtag starveling with my beautiful gown hanging limp, I would feel distress-especially if you drew away from me and took back all your compliments."

"It might be best to let sleeping dogs lie," said Dhrun. "Still, I suspect that what we have here is you, in part and in full."

"Once and for all I will make sure. That is the honourable course~Are you watching?"

"Very carefully."

"Be prepared for the worst!" Madouc gave her right ear a tug with the fingers of her left hand. "Do you notice a change?"

"Not a whit."

"That is a relief. Let us go over yonder and sit on the couch and, if nothing else, I will tell you of my adventures in the Forest of Tantrevalles."

III

The night passed without alarm or incident. The sun rose tangerine red in the east, and the day began. Madouc awoke early and lay for a few moments in her bed thinking. Then, abruptly, she jumped to the floor, summoned her maid, bathed in the pink porphyry tub, and dressed in a frock of soft blue linen with a white collar. The maid brushed her hair until the copper ringlets became disciplined and hung in shining curls, and were tied with a blue ribbon.

A knock sounded at the door. Madouc cocked her head to listen, then gave quick instructions to the maid. The knock sounded again, sharp and peremptory. The maid opened the door a slit, to find two black eyes gleaming at her from a sallow long-nosed face. The maid called out: "Have you no respect for Her Highness? The princess receives no one so early! Go away!"

She closed the door upon muffled expostulations: "It is I, Damsel Kylas! I am a person of rank! Open the door that I may enter!"

Receiving no response, Kylas marched off to her own chambers, where she tried the door giving into Madouc's parlour, only to discover that the door was locked.

Kylas knocked, and called out: "Open, if you please! It is I, Kylas!"

Instead of complying, Madouc was away: out the other door, to the end of the garden courtyard, into the east gallery and out of sight.

Kylas knocked again. "Open at once! I bring a message from Queen Sollace!"

The maid at last unlatched the door; Kylas stormed into the parlour. "Madouc? Princess Madouc!" She went into the bedchamber, looking right and left, then into the dressing room. Finding no trace of her quarry, she called toward the bathroom:

"Princess Madouc! Are you within? Her Majesty insists that you attend on her at once, that she may instruct you for the day! Princess Madouc?" Kylas looked into the bathroom, then turned angrily upon the maid. "Where is the princess?"

"She has already gone out, your ladyship."

"I can see that for myself. But where?"

"As to that, I cannot say."

Kylas gave a croak of annoyance and rushed away.

Madouc had taken herself to the Morning Saloon, as recommended the night before by Prince Jaswyn. This was a large room, pleasant and airy, with sunlight streaming through tall glass windows. A buffet, running the length of the room, supported a hundred dishes, platters, bowls and trenchers, offering foods of many sorts.