Arai spent the next several weeks training with Jerade. Every morning, the two of them got up, went to the training yard, outfitted themselves in masks and overstuffed shirts, and commenced battering each other with Jerade's collection of dulled swords. It was a bit of a chore at first, but Arai gradually began to enjoy these sparring sessions -- he hadn't had many opportunities to practice his swordplay since he had left Velon, and it was good exercise besides.

Jerade slowly began to improve, and eventually managed to incorporate some of Arai's techniques into his own style. He was still extremely impatient, however, and had especial trouble learning the Rising Tide -- Jerade wasn't interested in standing still, waiting for an attack to come; he wanted to get in there and mix it up.

Lillandra and Shell, meanwhile, spent most of their time in each other's company, either relaxing in their rooms or strolling around the stone walkways that wove through the palace's luxurious gardens. Shell's lessons continued as well -- having mastered compression and confinement, Lillandra now began to teach her how to perform simple calculations. This was not only the most difficult part of fashioning a spell, it was also the most difficult to teach, for much of it was intuitive. And because Lillandra herself had difficulty with casting -- her calculations went awry unless she was placing them into zemi -- she could only supply Shell with a basic understanding of how that final step was supposed to work.

Arai wondered about that -- Lillandra was obviously an extremely skilled sorceress; why did she have so much trouble with casting? Why couldn't she perform the simple magics that came easily to sorcerers like Vex? Her asked her one afternoon.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I think it might have something to do with my calculations, though. They're probably more complex than they need to be. No one taught me these things, remember; I had to learn most of it on my own."

"I thought your grandmother taught you."

"She taught me the basics before she died," she said, "but she was a very minor talent; she could only do a couple of simple calculations. I had to figure most of it out myself."

He spoke with Lillandra often, and with Shell. The elf girl enjoyed living in the palace and ordering the servants around, and often disappeared for hours at a time, exploring its many rooms and parlors. Arai worried that she was making a nuisance of herself, but Jerade was unbothered: "Let her run around," he said. "I don't mind it."

"What about your father?"

"He's not here. He's in Kingsaile, with my stepmother. They won't be back until after the tournament. Lord Ramsey is in charge until then, and he has his own estate, on the other side of the city." He said this with some bitterness.

"Lord Ramsey?" Arai inquired.

"My uncle."

"Ah."

"He always takes over when my father is away. It's understandable. Lord Ramsey has a great deal of experience, after all. He's responsible, reliable." He snorted. "Everything I'm not."

Arai was beginning to understand. "Your father doesn't think you're responsible?"

"He's never left me in charge of the city," he said. "He's never left me in charge of anything. What does that tell you?"

"You're still young."

"I'm old enough." He shrugged. "Let's continue, shall we?" And they went back to sparring.

It took a while, but Arai eventually grew to like Jerade. The only thing that continued to bother him was the man's constant attempts to flirt with Lillandra, despite her obvious lack of interest.

"She's a little hard to read," Jerade admitted to Arai at one point.

"You're wasting your time with her," he said. "There's much, much more to Lillandra than meets the eye."

"She does meet the eye, though, doesn't she?" He sighed contentedly. "Such a beauty. Are all the women of Velon so lovely?"

"Lovely?" Arai snorted. But then he caught himself. Lillandra was pretty, he couldn't deny that. It was kind of an icy beauty perhaps, for she seldom smiled, but with her big, dark eyes, full lips, and lustrous hair...well, it wasn't impossible to understand why Jerade might be interested in her.

But she was the Night Queen, and although he did find her attractive, Arai had been trying not to look at her in that way; in fact he had spent the last few months actively suppressing any attraction he might have felt for her. She's the Night Queen. She's the enemy.

"How did the two of you meet, anyway?" Jerade asked, snapping him out of his reverie.

"It's a long story," he sighed.

"You've got a lot of long stories, haven't you?" He glanced at Arai's sword, Silus. "That sword, for instance. You still haven't told me where you got it."

"I don't think you'd believe me."

"Try me."

Arai picked up the sword, slid it out of its scabbard, and studied the ivory-white blade, in an absent sort of way. "This is Silus," he said. "The Radiant Blade. It was forged over two thousand years ago, before the Harrowing, by a sorcerer-smith called Illu Matté. I spent two years searching for it."

"Forged by a sorcerer?" Jerade said skeptically, studying the blade as well. "Before the Harrowing?"

"I told you you wouldn't believe me."

"Ha! It does sound like an interesting story, though."

"Two years," Arai murmured, remembering. They had crossed the Frozen Mountains three times, searching for Illu Matté's shrine. They had had to battle monsters -- the Frozen Mountains were full of such -- and the barbarian Al'mud. They had had to struggle against the elements as well -- if not for Maya and her exceptional healing abilities, Odo probably would have lost both feet to frostbite. They had explored caverns, fallen into wyrm-holes, and crossed frozen lakes. They had been caught in avalanches. They had run out of food several times.

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But they had found it in the end: the golden shrine of the legendary Illu Matté, which they had found deep within the White Desolation. The spirit of Illu Matté himself had appeared to Arai, telling him to take the sword and combat evil. Neither Odo nor Maya had been able to see the sorcerer, however, and Arai himself had later come to doubt the vision -- all three of them had been on the verge of delirium, after all. But the sword itself was real, and its power was just as the legends had described it.

Now equipped with a weapon capable of combatting the Night Queen, they had returned to Velon, but the sword alone was not enough to overthrow Lillandra's armies. With Grizz's help, they had eventually managed to convince the Steelmen to take up Arai's cause, and to lead the people to revolt. Vex had later joined them as well, using his magic to help them fight Lillandra's monsters.

"It is an interesting story," Arai agreed. "Maybe I'll write it down in a book one day."

* * *

The sparring sessions continued, and Jerade continued to improve. His bodyguard Yaqui, who followed him around like a shadow, was almost always present during these sessions. A serious man, Yaqui never smiled at Jerade's jokes and japes. Jerade often suggested that he try sparring with Arai, but the swordsman always demurred, which was fine with Arai; he could tell from the way he carried himself that Yaqui was no poseur. This man knew how to fight.

Most of a month had passed by now, and with the tournament right around the corner, Jerade insisted that they train even harder, well into the afternoons and sometimes even into the evenings. Arai hoped the lordling would do well in the Test of the Immortals, but though he had improved, he could still be sloppy and imprecise, and his lack of patience was an ongoing problem.

They were comfortable in each other's presence now, and Arai had come to consider Jerade a friend...which, considering how they had first met, was perhaps rather surprising.

"I still don't like him," Lillandra told Arai one evening. It was to be their last night in the palace; the tournament was tomorrow, and the Cockatrice, which had returned from Galleus a few days ago, would be leaving early the next morning. Arai had already gone down to the harbor and arranged for their passage on the ship -- fortunately Captain Burt had no memory of Lillandra's attempt to brainwash him.

"It's just because he won't leave you alone," Shell said. And that was probably true; Jerade had been paying even more attention to Lillandra these last few days. When he wasn't sparring with Arai, he was chasing her around, giving her flowers and gifts (including a very nice little hand mirror), and doing everything he could to try to charm her. But she continued to reject his advances.

"That's only part of it," she said.

"You still think there's something false about him?" Arai asked.

"You've spent more time with him than I have. You can't see it?"

"Not really," he confessed. "I admit I found him insufferable when I first met him, but he does have some good qualities, and he is serious about winning this tournament."

"Do you think he has a chance?" Shell asked.

"I have no idea what kind of competition he'll be facing," he said, shrugging. "But I think he'll do well, even if he doesn't win. I wouldn't mind sticking around to watch, but the Cockatrice leaves in the morning and the tournament doesn't start until the afternoon." He gave the elf girl a little poke. "What about you? Are you going to miss living in a palace? You'll probably never have the opportunity again."

"I like it here," she admitted. "But it is starting to get a little boring."

"Ah." He got to his feet. "We have to get up very early tomorrow," he reminded them both. "Try not to oversleep."

With that, Arai retired to his room for the evening. He got into bed, but had difficulty falling asleep -- though he had enjoyed his time in Addisport, for the most part, but he was looking forward to moving on, and excited about this sea voyage. He had sailed across Estellaria's Bay once, traveling from Camarro to Carmaine with his father, but that had been a relatively short trip, and they had hugged the coast the whole time. This voyage, across the Bay of Vandals, would be a much more substantial trip.

And after that, Galleus, and after that, the Scarred Lands. He still wasn't sure how they were going to cross the desert, but they would cross that bridge when they came to it.

After a few hours of tossing and turning, he finally fell into a fitful sleep. It was still dark when he awoke, but when he got up and looked out the window in his room, he saw a faint glow on the far horizon, which told him that dawn must be near. Yawning, he got dressed, but just as he was pulling on his boots he heard some kind of commotion coming from the room adjacent to his -- Lillandra's room. Then he heard a shout.

What was going on in there? He went into the hallway and knocked on the door. "Lillandra?"

He heard her scream: "Arai!"

Alarmed, he tried to open the door, but it had been locked. "Lillandra!" he shouted back. "What's wrong?" But all he could hear now were muffled cries.

The door was sturdy, but he thought he might able to kick it open with a running start. He backed himself up against the opposite wall and assaulted the door with a flying kick, which did loosen it somewhat. Heartened by this, he gave it a few more kicks, and finally it burst open, the lock splintering off the door. He charged into the room, which he found in a state of disarray: a mirror had been broken; a chair had been turned over.

To his surprise, he found Jerade standing in the middle of this mess, gritting his teeth. His usually-perfect hair was mussed, and there was a line of blood on his neck, as though he had been scratched.

Lillandra was sitting up on the bed. Her shirt had been partially ripped, exposing her shoulder. Her eyes were wide and wild. "Arai..." she whispered raggedly, clutching the strap of her shirt to keep it from sliding off.

Arai whirled on Jerade. "Is this what it looks like?"

Jerade didn't reply, but merely looked back at him, guiltily. Arai turned to Lillandra, who nodded, her eyes downcast.

He clenched his fists, returning his gaze to Jerade. "How dare you?"

He sighed and spread his hands. "I didn't think--"

"How dare you!" Arai shouted. And then, full of righteous rage, he threw himself at the young lord, tackling him to the floor and punching him repeatedly. He then hoisted the man to his feet and slammed him up against the wall. "She was right about you," Arai snarled into his face. "I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner."

"Let go of me," Jerade managed, blood dribbling out of his nose. "You don't know what you're doing."

"I know exactly what I'm doing," he said, and he punched him in the gut, dropping him to his knees. He glanced at Lillandra. "Get dressed and get your things. We're leaving."

She nodded and started getting ready. "You'll get nothing from me now," Jerade said darkly, on his hands and knees. "You threw it all away, for her."

"So I did."

"It didn't have to happen this way. Do you have any idea what I offered her? But she was so totally unreasonable, I couldn't--"

"Shut up," Arai barked. "You're lucky I don't kill you right now."

Jerade's eyes narrowed. "You won't leave the palace alive," he sputtered.

"We'll see about that." He ripped the cords off the curtains and used them to tie the lordling up, then stuffed his mouth with his own kerchief and left him lying there on the floor. By now Lillandra had finished dressing and packing, and they left the room together. "We have to get out of here before the servants find him," Arai told her. "And that won't be long. You go find Shell. I have to go back to my room and get my sword."

She nodded, and they split up. Arai returned to his room, where he quickly put on his armor and collected his sword. A few moments later he was back in the hallway, reunited with Lillandra and Shell. "What's going on?" the elf girl asked sleepily.

"We're getting out of here," Arai said flatly. "Now." And the three of them ran down the hallway, out of the building, and into one of the palace's many smaller courtyards. It was early enough that most of the servants were not yet awake, but there were always guards stationed at the gate. He didn't think the guards would try to stop them, but if someone managed to raise the alarm...

He stopped suddenly, skidding to a halt in the center of the courtyard. A dark figure had just stepped out of the shadows in front of them, the edges of his robe fluttering in the breeze.

"Yaqui," Arai hissed.

"Going somewhere?" the swordsman inquired.

And he drew his sword.