KINGDOM 3100
The Song of Val'ha
THE REGENCY OF PRINCE JOEL

It was dark by the time the cliff where the horsepath ran diminished to a short bluff, the homes and merchantries of East Denlineil and half of the Denlineilian Bridge visible, and as Val’ha drew warmth from the yellow-windowed homes, closing shops and taverns just coming to life, she squinted to be certain: Around the edge of the city, in front of every building and on the bridge were faint red glows that had not been there before. The lights were more than that – they outlined dark figures of various creatures in all sizes. "The statues," said Ma’teus. "The statues have been brought to Denlineil." The Humans were skeptical – besides Val’ha, Ma’teus and Pivrax, none were able to detect the red glow – they passed East Denlineil Bridge, the city’s torchbearer lighting sconceposts for night travelers and those bound for its eastern shore to party and revel, and could see that a statue stood between each post. The swell of cheers and hails was so loud across the river that it carried the half-mile to their ears.

"Whip my skin," said the Baroness. "The Veiled Marquis has made this the City of 10,000 Statues."

With Ma’teus’ assurance that Denlineil’s west side, mostly merchantries and lodgings, was darker and that Gregarcantz favored late hours at Center Denlineil, the journeymates nonetheless pulled their hoods over their faces before they passed the port and homes of the gentry (each of which had its own statue), sticking to side alleys until they reached the mayoral structure.

Inside the front office Gregarcantz sat with his back to them, furiously scribbling on a sheet of papyrus. Around the room, unchanged from the last time Val’ha had been there – but for one nasty black spider webbed in the corner of the ceiling – were the same shelves of books, tables piled with books ready to fall over, pegged maps and charts strewn onto the walls, and closed door to the main office. Tarl-Cabot cleared his throat and Gregarcantz turned and stood, his face filled first with fright, then amazement, elation, concern and consternation. "You have returned!"

"That is obvious," the Baroness said stiffly. "We have performed your task for you."

"Did any see you? Where is Tarlos? The statues!"

"None saw us, Father." Ma’teus was as stony as the Baroness. "You need not worry."

"The Prince’s guards, his guards, I believed they had gone away, but I was not sure." He wiped his forehead.

"I sent Tarlos to the Reiglo Islands to be with my troth," said Tarl-Cabot angrily.

Gregarcantz fell against the back of his chair and clutched his tunic. "How? How could you…?"

"How could I what? How could I send him to safety and not back into the arms of the one who lost him first?" Tarl-Cabot placed himself only inches from the mayor’s face and pointed his finger at Gregarcantz’ throat. His tenor lowered and doubled. "We once agreed that secrets were best kept from Tarlos of his past, but since my brother died for your insolence, old Elf, worry no more."

Gregarcantz listened as the companions reported what had happened to them the past week. He wept for the loss of Thoryn. "I shall declare a day of honor for him when we are through with this. I should like, at least, to see Tarlos again one day, Sir Tarl-Cabot." He paled, stuck a finger in the air and retrieved his manuscript; when he turned, there was sparkle in his eyes. "In the days since the statues appeared…"

"Mayor," said Porcie, "it was only this afternoon that they were carried from the Fields."

Gregarcantz looked puzzled. "I know not, young knight, what bedazzlement lost you, but Claraudice must have been powerful indeed to fold time into her maze. You have been gone for ten days."

"Six! Only six, I say!" Porcie shook his head in disbelief.

"In the days since the statues appeared, there has been much rejoicing in the city. I am working on a proclamation for the scribes to copy all about Denlineil – it will be a respite from the posters of Prince Joel." Gregarcantz’ upper lip twinged. "You have no doubt seen the stones around town?" The companions nodded. "The fog – Xorus’ fog –crept through, crossed the river into the east, and was thick across everything but the blessed sites. Even with my strength his darkness began to invade my dreams, my nephew’s, everyone with magickal blood. Then not four days ago, just before dusk, it was as if Agora herself placed each statue with the greatest care to stand guard around every part of the city, across the bridge and even the graveyards."

"They were aglow, Father Gregarcantz," said Ma’teus.

"You have seen then for yourself! Dear daughter, of course you know what that means. It is Agora’s red-light; the statues do not move, and they are not who they were before the medusae, but they live."

"How? How can this be?"

"After the fog was dispersed – even now it wafts around the city’s borders as if to seek a way in – the Veiled Marquis inveighed within my dream last night the words necessary to bring the statues to action. The Prince will not take our city and his wizards our dead without resistance!" Gregarcantz pounded his fist into the air.

"You indicated that his guards have been here already?" said the Baroness

"Indeed." Gregarcantz’ lips tightened and suddenly he busied himself folding and replacing his declaration.

"Master Mayor, do not hold your tongue! Your silence has already caused too much distress…"

"Lady Baroness! Yes, they came a week ago – Army of the Black Dog they call themselves now, the Blue Roses are gone – first to claim Farron and Andy, second to raid our treasury and announce a doubling of taxes and last, have our scribes copy this for posting." Gregarcantz looked around the room with his finger at his chin, poked the air and retrieved from the other office a scroll.

The Baroness grabbed it from him, unraveled and murmured her way through the familiar early parts of Prince Joel’s reward for their capture. "’By decree’ and so forth, ’A declaration and reward for capture of Sir Tarl-Cabot’ and on, ‘ten thousand silvers,’ ‘murders of King,’ ‘Lady Frippe’ and – here we are – ‘for detainment, killing or arrest of Captain Eedebee of the Bugbear, Sir Thoryn of Azimq’haadrin, Lady Aeysla of Moncrovia, Sir Preston-Altraine, Captain Flegretha, Dwarf, of the Dwarfkeep, Trisahn also known as Dyphrasian also known as Catalon, and Lady Farron and Lord Andronicus Flooher’ty of Denlineil, five thousand silvers each for conspiracy of abovesaid crimes.’ Oh my." The scroll dropped out of one of the Baroness’ hands. After several moments of stunned silence, Val’ha’s heart stopping when Trisahn’s names were mentioned, the Baroness said, "It would seem that the list of names grows."

"When they did not find Farron and Andy, their names were added." As old as Gregarcantz was, his face saddened another century. "I had to show them where they lived." He closed his eyes. "When they did not find them, they took anything of worth and burned the rest. Good fortune the Flooher’tys lived near water or the whole town could have burned."

"These could not have been insipirile knights!" protested Sir Porcie.

"I do not think they were, the number of loyalists left from King Joel’s reign grows ever smaller, most have deserted. But the Prince brought his own forces from Joh’oprinia – border-crossing Outlanders, bootlickers, feral dogs – and mercenaries from as far as the icelands who care not for history, appreciation or the establishment of rule, must less the cause of insipirility, lord knight."

"What news have you of the Prince’s navy?" asked the Baroness.

"As many undead as Xorus raised when he lived on the Isle of Sipsids, nothing, I am told, compares to that which the demon-god has reanimated through Cagliostra. The undead have in the thousands been enslaved to build the ships and occupy them, block the Straits and charge upon North Mibwaze, which has seceded from the commonwealth. Prince Joel and his troth, Princess Ardanla, set sail for Bjursk-la to request that her father King Percivale abdicate the throne for harboring and assisting the ‘conspirators and murderers’ as he called you. It would seem Cagliostra and Feukpi dropped many untruths in the Prince’s ears, naming names ever more weakly connected to you and bringing Joel to ghost-hunt after Flegretha, Trisahn and the others. For this even Nopaach-to’s family has gone into hiding."

"That is a pretty silver, going after King Percivale on such trumpery," said the Baroness, "when King Joel’s body lies fresh in his grave. Such coincidence!"

"Ar-ar-arddannnnnlassss f-f-irrrstht inn l-line t-t-ooo Quee-ennnn."

"Indeed, Lord Pivrax! So Percivale abdicates or he is dealt with by Prince Joel, leaving two kingdoms under the rule of the Black Dog. I propose this is not some random set of instances." The Baroness crossed her arms. "I cannot believe anyone but fools do not see the Prince’s ploy –his parents, her father…Always did the Prince brood and stew awaiting his turn to rule, always a bad seed he was, even when a child."

"Did the Black Dogs give any word of Igri beyond the exodus of the princes and princesses?" asked Tarl-Cabot

"Only that King Joel’s court had been banished to the Reiglo Islands along with Princess Igri. There was a queer thing, though…the same day as the funeral rites for the King and Queen were held, Lady Frippe was laid to rest as well. They said that was the night Prince Joel banished his siblings and the royal court – but the Lady’s troth, Lord Frippe, went mad, frothing and ranting about her death and tearing up blue rose bushes. He charged out of the gates of Castle Moncrovia, swinging a knife at everyone in his path.

"I must tell you all this much," finished Gregarcantz, "for you all may believe that Prince Joel deals in ruses and miscast errands to divert attention from himself. But from all that I have heard and seen, I truly do think he is convinced that his proclamation is correct and the three of you – Ladies Val’ha and Val Tress and you, Sir Tarl-Cabot – really did kill King Joel and Queen A’gren."

"What hogwash!" the Baroness said. "I ask you this, Mayor Elf: If the Prince is so convinced that I helped kill my cousin…" She crossed herself when mentioning the King, "…that he searches those ever more indirectly associated with the three of us, how did you, pray tell me, escape his spies?"

Gregarcantz blanched and regarded his feet. When he looked up, it was at Val’ha. "It is for the same reason that they are not here in Denlineil, for they are assured (at least for now) that ours is a city loyal to Prince Joel. After I brought them to Farron and Andy’s home, I…" He put his hands into the pockets of his longcoat, twisted the fabric and concerned himself with the discovery of the black spider on his ceiling.

"Do speak, Man!" demanded Baroness Val Tress. "Did you bribe them? Give them poison? What?"

Gregarcantz shifted, his eyes back on Val’ha. "Prince Joel knew only that I was Vice-Mayor when my predecessor’s troth was rescued by you. If he thought anything else, I suspect not just Tarlos would not have been…In any course, they questioned me through the night, so many hours, I could not think anymore but for the safety of the city." He shrugged twice. "As Terr’Sol was popping over the horizon, they asked me where they thought, knowing as little as I told them about you, they asked me where they thought all of you might be."

Val’ha froze. "You did not…you did not tell them about Mount Carias, did you?" Her spirit fell when the Mayor nodded.

"I had to give them some false scent to chase, if only to get them out of here! Oh, come, Val’ha, you never intended on returning to the glade, did you?" The tears that ran down Val’ha’s face dripped onto Gregarcantz’ floor. "Did you, dear child? Oh."

"You sent the Black Dogs to Val’ha’s birthplace?" asked Porcie in disbelief. "You queer old fool, they will raze it as they did Andy and Farron’s home!"

Gregarcantz’ lower lip was almost to his chin. "It was all I could think of." He sighed. "I sent them up the Xm – well, the same route that Tropruscht and I took when our posse pursued Trisahn…"

The room fell quiet. The sound of revelers outside grew loud and silent as they headed to East Denlineil. Finally, Ma’teus said, "Father, we have returned the horse you lent to Sir Thoryn – she is outside. I suppose you will not be wanting us to spend even this night in your city for fear of Prince Joel’s wrath."

"Us, my daughter?" said Gregarcantz. "Your home is here!"

"There is some wisdom in the keeping of secrets. I can even understand how in fostering me and Tarlos, you arranged for knowledge of our parents and even heritage to be held from us. But now the past unravels in my mind from your lies about who I was, what I dreamt, my bloodline...even Aunt Tropruscht was not as she appeared. In this light and though I do not judge you harshly for it, I ask myself where indeed my home is, for it is not in the house of masks that you raised me. The living-stones we brought you, more powerful by Agora’s blessing, have made Denlineil the City of 10,000 Statues, but it is no longer my home." She embraced him. "I go with my sister, who now shares my path, and thank you for all of the years you raised and taught me."

"Daughter!" cried Gregarcantz. "Do not leave!"

"How Inez was aware of my kinship to both herself and Val’ha I cannot tell, Father, but it does no good to hide from the possibility that others know as well and could use me against you. It is for the good of the city."

"Oh! Oh!" Gregarcantz sobbed and he yanked a cloth from his longcoat to wipe his eyes. "Secrets…" He touched Val’ha’s arm. "So many centuries of secrets, but so little to tell. I did not know your father very well – I was chamberlain to King Ma’rhechu, your father’s father, when he first sent me from Bylikros to the realm of the mortals under Prince Ma’hadrin’s embassy. I stayed in Denlineil – I loved the people, the land and city.

"Ma’hadrin traveled for most of his envoyship across Asch’endra, bringing rule to the coastal cities, establishing trade, sharing his magickal wisdom and each other’s histories and beliefs, and so I did not spend too much time with him and did not know that Xorus was set upon revenge against your family, much less why Chext’a and Ma’hadrin disappeared over six-score years ago. I settled into my life here and was told around that time Bylikros had also faded from the Terran realm and I have never been back."

Gregarcantz sniffled. "The only time I saw Ma’hadrin again was Zynlester 4 in the year 3075, the night you were born, Ma’teus. Chext’a was gone and Ma’hadrin used a wish-ring to find me, blinking back before Val’ha awoke from her night’s sleep – he said nothing but to protect and hide you, and to say nothing to anyone of your existence. Had he told me everything…anything…" Gregarcantz’ tears began to well again. He gave Ma’teus a brief, stiff last hug and opened his arms to the companions.

"I accept your invitation to leave." The Baroness stomped back to her mount.

**

While Pivrax carved himself a new javelin from an aspen branch, Quigley and Ma’teus attended to Vuvu and the horses. It was several hours since the companions traveled the night road along Mount Carias’ eastern side under a sliver of moon half-hidden by the mountain’s high ridge, the Xm River filling the air with its southeast flow, growing louder and swifter the further they went. Val’ha looked down from the stars to the approximate place on the mountain she had been raised. She blinked twice when she thought she saw flames; the starlight had left its echo in her eyes. She returned to the campfire as Porcie was unrolling a map of Asch’endra-Conschala that Gregarcantz had given them. "I think, Tarl-Cabot, though tomorrow runs our greatest risk of encounter with Black Dogs, it is the fastest way to Princess Igri’s court. Are you sure we might find sanctuary at Castle Knife?"

"If Princess Phelra returned to the seat of her duchy as we were told, she will aid us. Her loyalty to Princess Igri – to insipirility, to the King – is deeper than anyone in the court." Porcie cleared his throat. "Excepting you, of course, Sir Porcie."

Porcie returned to the map. "There will be several leagues of river-fording – Xm joins the foot of the mountain for several stretches and it is easier to travel the river than go along the established path. Let us make sure that goats are not afraid of the water – there will be no bridges for them to cross over!" He raised his voice for Pivrax to hear.

"Vuvussss f-f-innne w-with-ph-th w-w-watt-terrrr."

"Good!"

"Are you certain," asked the Baroness, "assuming all is well with Princess Phelra, that we continue north toward Flegretha and the Dwarfkeep by dashing off the road into the wood whenever we see anyone? I am becoming weary with scattering like frightened rabbits anytime we hear the sound of a wagon’s wheels or a horse’s hoof."

"Lady Baroness," said Tarl-Cabot, "we know that Captain Flegretha will probably still be here –" He pointed to a spot on the map. "She told Tarnac she would await him for at least another fortnight where the Lorax feeds the Ospet, which is the western shore of both here. If our course is undeterred, we should be able to complete the distance there in time for her ship to bring us to Reiglo Isle and my family."

"It is necessary to stay near the road for several reasons," Porcie said, "but mostly for time’s sake – looking for openings through walls and fences takes far too much time, as you are no doubt aware from your travels across the Conschalan countryside. After we cut across Knife Path, cross the Gyger Bridge up Verdish Trail and cross Andovil'age Road for another ten leagues, there we are – the shore of Lorax. The stars will guide us."

"I was not suggesting we take Val Tress Pass, gentle Men. As we saw and that jester of a mayor made perfectly clear, the fog of Xorus was billowing at the outskirts of Denlineil, blown up to the statues and held there by them. I am certain it is so thick over the Moncrovian road we would be lost."

"We could perhaps get there in reasonable time, lady knight, if we took Magickal Road through the Great Forest of Bylikaegra, north through Apocania and Andovil’age and back…" Porcie’s fingers danced across the cartograph as he spoke, "…but I see no need for the risk of either Xorus’ fog or Prince Joel’s web."

"At some point we must contend with obtaining the birthstone that has given portal to Xorus," said Val’ha.

"Can you be sure it is there, at Castle Moncrovia?" the Baroness asked. "We have no idea what its malcraft is or who possesses it, but with the Prince asea, there is a good chance the that opal travels with him. It would do us no good to call upon Blue Rose Hall for it."

"Perhaps not," said Porcie. "You are correct, we cannot be sure either way. I do think, Val’ha, that when Oromasus – maybe even your mother – next tries to contact you, you should communicate our request for any help in finding a way to retrieve the stone or where it is."

"I will! And mentioning of sleep, I bid you all good night."

**

In the moonlit wood, in the middle of the night with all of her companions asleep, Val’ha found the shore of the Xm, which she had seen so often during her youth from the high distance of Mount Carias, washed the dirt from her body in its flow. Beneath the mountain’s shadow, Xm and the air between it and Carias’ foot were vital, cold and bracing; Val’ha was thrilled by the chill, her heart beating strong, her skin prickling and her breath light mist.

She donned her foot-coverings, cloak and a fresh tunic and soaked, wrung and hung her soiled one on a branch to dry. The tunics – brown-green, knee-length shirts of Elven sackcloth that her parents took in their flight from Bylikros to the lost glade on Carias – blended in well with nightfall and shadow. She had given Trisahn several of Ma’hadrin’s. Trisahn…his name appears on Prince Joel’s posters. Is he aware? Has he escaped? Val’ha could see trisahn the Night Moon through the trees and remembered how she had met her dearest friend on Carias, their last day there, Thoryn…

Val’ha grabbed her wet tunic, returned to the camp and spread it out on one of the sitting-logs they had arranged around the now-dying embers, put her pack on Heinghold’s mirror and lay her head down, falling asleep to the Baroness’ light snoring and the Song of the night breeze and river.

She dreamed of Mount Carias, awash in green-light, Trisahn standing with Blue Rose-armored Thoryn near the end-grasses of her glade, dweemtweezles skittering about. The trees were swaying without wind, dancing behind her friends. Ma’hadrin – before he became sick from Xorus’ feeding, the image of robust wisdom she remembered most often and warmly – came into the glade wearing a lavender robe. Trisahn, Thoryn and Ma’hadrin took each other’s hands and began to run in a circle – faster and faster they ran, until their bodies blurred into each other and Val’ha could only see a whirring cylinder of changing colors.

From within the cylinder Feukpi emerged, floating upward with his eyes closed and his arms folded across his chest. When his feet hung in the air above the whirling trio, they stopped to form a line, their backs to Val’ha, their heads tilted toward the conjurer. Val’ha may have blinked, or she may not have, but in less than a second the green-light that pervaded the glade was gone, replaced by a black-light that hid the glade, the sky, everything but the four figures.

Opaline light emitted from Feukpi’s eyes, enveloping the three before him. Val’ha now detected, though she could not sense her own body, the sound of the corrupted Song in the vast darkness surrounding those before her. Trisahn lifted one hand – it contained a scroll. He held it into the beam from Feukpi’s eyes and, though it did not catch fire, vanished in a wisp of smoke. Trisahn lofted in his other hand a horseshoe that also wisped into smoke under Feukpi’s opaline stare. Thoryn held up his sword and a blue rose, both items vanishing in the wicked light.

Last, Ma’hadrin held up a fist and opened it; like butterflies, two little gold-lights twinkled toward the opaline shaft and singed into smoke. Then her father offered up something she could not identify: solid, sparkling gold with glittering blue gems, as though they shone in full daylight, the object had a flat, round pedestal that graduated toward a central gold bar less than a foot high; a crossbar ran through the top portion, three golden cords at each end suspending a pair of small saucers. Feukpi’s eyelight flashed on the object, but he could not consume it. He shot his opaline light more furiously over the thing, but it shone so golden that Val’ha lost the whole image and all was dark and there was no sound.

**

Deep emerald light swathed about Val’ha; she was once more fully conscious, but had no sense of direction, space or time, not even of her own senses or body but that she floated in her green-light. At first she felt as though she was rising, but knew this to be only an impression from the Terran realm. She could see but did not see, the green-light was cool and smooth but she could not feel, she thought but did not form thoughts, and beyond all of this, outside her magickal light, Val’ha detected once again – as if at the very edges of the heavens themselves – the shadow, Xorus, lurking, hiding and waiting. He shall wait forever if he waits for me.

Val’ha was uplifted for more than an hour; when she reached a point where the light concentrated, she willed herself to move ahead, to the blurry sphere of light that was like a green door. When she was beyond it, she was suddenly surrounded by the night sky. Now, though she could not sense herself necessarily, she could see, hear and feel what was around her; to her surprise Oromasus’ brown-light was not present with her.

Beneath her on Terra, the clouds were dispersed and though it was nightfall, Val’ha could see everything as clearly as if it were daytime, though all in shades of green. She flew above the Xm, elated at her flight, and wished for arms so she could soar like a bird. She zipped up toward the stars and back down; from the landmarks around her – the sheer east face of Mount Carias, a gap between the mountains and westbound Xm – Val’ha guessed this to be the Gyger Pass from Porcie’s map that she and her companions would be headed toward by daybreak.

A windstream pushed her back up above the clouds and against the stars. She flew swifter than before; still a-roil over the razing of her birth-hut, Val’ha used the Night Moon to estimate that she was being carried southwest over Carias Ridge. She passed below the clouds and was above the meadows, farms and foothills along the road she had first taken with Trisahn to Moncrovia. Ahead of her, distinct from the clouds and aglow with opaline, spread Xorus’ fog, a body of mist so great it almost touched the bottom of the sky as it crawled the upper cliffs of Carias and stretched as far west over the grasslands as Val’ha could see. She swept toward the fog’s edge, its tendrils alive, feeding on the Song’s power, reaching to extend and solidify Xorus’ clutch on the Terran world. Val’ha could sense its malevolence; after awhile there was nothing but her essence and the fog and she felt trapped in the blue-white smoke though her spirit did not breathe, stifled until she came to perch in the high windows of the Blue Rose Hall of Castle Moncrovia.

"It is vital that we contain the Apocanian rebellion." A young smooth-faced Man sat in the throne of King Joel VI in a Black Dog shirt, small jeweled crown and short opaline cape, arguing with High Advisor Zini and Feukpi, whose own light-circle shimmered vaguely around him. "they left me to handle things while he and Mother have gone to take the throne of Joh’oprinia, and Father left me to implement the burden of collecting the taxes you insisted are necessary to hold the loyalty of the Black Dog army!" By now the youth was screaming and waving his fists. "It is therefore my duty to give the orders and your duty to follow them! Do you hear me?"

"Lord Joel," said Zini, backing up a step and bowing, "after the Apocanians threw out our tax collectors and guards and rejected your proclamation doubling their taxes, I do not know if such anarchy will consume other towns, but your demand for a hundred guards in each city to enforce the military tax will spread our forces so thinly…"

"Then start with eighty until we have enough." Lord Joel’s voice dropped to a disgusted monotone. "As for Apocania specifically…" He patted the left pocket of his black silk pants and withdrew an object Val’ha could not see at first, but when he held it up in the glow of the candles, his eyes became reverent and his words soft, for it was the opaline birthstone of the demon-god – the opal that housed Xorus’ mortal remains, the portal-stone that had found its way twice to Terran malcrafts who conjured him forth, the centerpiece of all his energy and seed for every possession, reborn curse, creeping fog and corruption of the Song. The rock was a smooth, mildly lustrous half-oval; beneath its surface sheen a bluish hue, and beneath that hollow blackness, like a bruise. So much had the opaline birthstone affected Val’ha’s life and yet she had never seen it before. It was beautiful and enticing. "Take Feukpi and two hundred Black Dogs with you."

"Dear cousin, may I be the one?" Feukpi jittered and rubbed his hands together.

"What do you mean?" asked Zini.

Lord Joel stroked Xorus’ birthstone and put it in his pocket. "If the City of Merchants chooses to be the turnip whose blood we draw by force, then with my dear cousin’s discovery, we have found for you the blade to slice it. Dop-splythe, the Sword of Excitement – like all of the Swords in Terra, it could not be obtained directly by the Dark God while it resided on hallowed grounds or was hidden by a cloak."

"But your father sent forth a guard to collect the Sword from Pope Andronicus in Zehdr City to no avail, my lord."

"Yes, indeed, and no amount of – inducement – could convince the Pope or his archbishop Swordkeeper to tell us where they were hiding it. But, Zini, we found out where it is!"

"How…Where…?"

Feukpi danced a little jig. "Contain yourself, cousin." Lord Joel descended the dais, put his hands on Zini’s arms and kissed his cheek. "When we have dealt with the insurgents in Apocania and they are made as obedient as my foolish uncle will be, my father will return to reward all of us." He resumed the throne. "Xorus has agents within the Clerickal Church and the Zeusan Church, not just the Terr’dean, dear Man, surely you would not assume otherwise?"

"No, but…"

"Shut your mouth, Zini, and listen. You will retrieve Dop-splythe for my cousin to wield. The archbishop was only a week ago seen at the Holy Convent, west of Moncrovia on Magickal Road. He left the Sword, but our spies have not been able to discover whom with. Find it! Take it by whatever force is necessary and use it against Apocania. Its intonation and ritual are known to only a few, and Feukpi assured me he has it mastered, yes, cousin? You are aware of its unique gift?"

"Yes, Lord Joel, yes I am! It will be an attractive tool to bargain with and bloodless for our army, if it should come to that."

"I do not expect our valuable army to besiege Apocania but for last resort. You must make clear to the townspeople and their insolent mayor that we will have orderly taxation or they will be turned upon each other. If they choose a bloodletting spree between neighbor and kin, so be it. After we have used Dop-splythe to excite the Apocanians to madness and self-decimation, we will offer it to Xorus and receive all the benefits that come through serving him." The Men bowed. Zini and Feukpi began to withdraw when Joel waved to them. "One other task, Zini, I ask of you in Apocania."

"Yes, my lord?"

"I have learned from a trusted source that an ally of my grandparents’ killers named Trisahn hides there under the protection of the renegade mayor. He is of particular interest to us, is he not, Cousin Feukpi?"

"Oh, yes, dear cousin!" Feukpi clapped his hands.

"Tear up the city until she relinquishes him. One last thing, Zini – when you are traveling through Bylikaegra, see what has happened and if necessary, post additional force there as well. Our spies have reported an unusual rebellion from the Magickal City."

"It will all be done, Lord Joel." Val’ha was pulled back through the cold glass and into complete darkness, slipping down a bottomless shaft and in the next moment, seemingly, awake on the cold ground, her breath frosting the copper mirror, and her companions stirring for the new day.

**

"When?" Baroness Val Tress asked Val’ha after she finished telling the others of her dream and night-flight. "Accepting that you are able to distinguish between simple dreams and magickal visions – and, since the images of your homestead and Lord Joel’s meeting bear markers in reality so that we can also assume this was not a flight of your fancy – if you truly did witness these events, when? Were they as they occurred – last night – or were they tonight? Next week? Or two days ago?"

"I – I do not know…" She had not thought about the possibilities presented by the Baroness. "My sense, my intuition is that it was as it happened."

"Good then." The Baroness rummaged through her satchel and removed some dried meat and shivered. Terr’Sol’s light reached only intermittently through the forest even though many of the trees had already lost their leaves to the early fall’s chill.

Tarl-Cabot pulled his cloak off the ground, tied it around his neck and cowled his head. "It seems you are about to make a proposal, lady Elf."

"Our days grow short and while I still share your path toward Reiglo Isle, Sir Tarl-Cabot, I cannot think but that Oromasus intended me to see Lord Joel’s meeting for a purpose beyond mere information. We must try to reach the Sword first. And are we to do nothing for Trisahn in Apocania?"

"But you say Oromasus did not aid you here," said Porcie. "Despite that what I told you yesterday, even if we ourselves reached Loran Stream by way of Apocania and Bylikaegra, it grows ever less so that we could reach there before Flegretha left. What assurance have you beyond an impression from a dream that the Pope hides his Sword at the Holy Convent, or that our dear friend Trisahn is not already captured?"

"I agree wholly with Porcie," the Baroness said. "Understand, Lady Val’ha, we ride with and trust you but must be rigorous in our questioning – too much depends otherwise."

"I know – I know, Baroness Val Tress." Val’ha kicked at some fallen leaves, unable to respond with more proof.

"To say the least, traversing the highway toward the fog, Moncrovia, the seat of Joel’s power – I am having a difficult time in resolving the peril we would face against your intuitions," said Tarl-Cabot. "If Lord Joel has already captured the Sword, Trisahn and Apocania, all we may be left with is our own endangerment. If Moncrovia has been torn apart by the corpses as we were told, I expect it is a giant shipyard – and the undead do not rest just for the fall of night."

"I do not wish for the fog any more than you!" Frustrated tears muddied Val’ha’s sight. "Have you all become so timid from hiding that you have lost sight of anything but flight? Tell me – when news reaches us of Trisahn’s death, what will you say then? And both of you – Tarl-Cabot, Porcie – you have each suffered Xorus’ hunger for your Swords, would you let Dop-splythe be taken and used? It seems far more potent, I am loath to say, than any of the other Swords I have heard tell of."

"It is," admitted Porcie, "the most destructive and powerful of the Nine."

"Let us argue that we decide to go to the Holy Convent, Sir Porcie," said Ma’teus. "Could we not rejoin Gyger Pass and take the northwest road along Mount Carias by way of Moncrovia to reach it?"

"It would add several days – the shorter way is behind us, along the coastal highway."

The Baroness pushed her tongue against her cheeks. "Val Tress Pass. Val Tress Pass. Val’ha, it is audacious and may be to our advantage to do as you say, if we agree to try and thwart Zini and Feukpi’s orders. If we reach Dop-splythe before them, I am not even worried for the number of their guard – I am certain beyond a doubt we will be able to wield the Sword and turn them upon each other. But as it has been made clear, time and again, to me, your father’s cloaking-spell is errant, weak and begins to fail us. When the first whiff of Xorus’ fog touches our skin, how do we know he will not sense our presence and cast bolts of lightning through our heads?"

"I have no answer to that. But we must try!"

"As I have seen few else who do not flee or hide, two nations of cowards and weak spirits, I vote affirmatively on your proposal, Lady Val’ha, and I will take you along an older highway seldom traveled that runs along the shore of the Val Tress cliffs."

"Thank you, Baroness, for your confidence."

"I cannot in the end do any other," said Porcie. "I will attend you in this matter as well."

"So will I," Sir Quigley said. "Though I long for my homeland and return to the Reiglo Court."

"As do I, High Advisor." Tarl-Cabot’s expression softened. "As do I. It is decided – we head back through Moncrovia."

"Ittss-ss r-right th-ph-thing-gng to-to-to d-do."

"After breakfast." Ma’teus’ middle made deep groaning sounds. "Not until after breakfast, Sir Tarl-Cabot."