A warm wind rushed over the golden plains and called the army of banners to arms and order. Cara pressed her hands against her legs to keep her dress from lifting. Gowns in Eruhal were made of thinner fabrics than she was used to, and twice already the wind had given the knights gathered across the lane a better look at her than she cared for. Their faces were hidden behind their helms now, but she could still hear a few of them snickering. Gislain was giggling as well, and Cara would be annoyed, but she was happy her little sister was laughing about something. She noticed all the women gathered on the tourney grounds held their hands together against their thighs. One of them could have warned me. She looked at Lady Jayna and Princess Joanevere and raised an eyebrow.

Her ire was interrupted by the clear ringing of golden trumpets, and the knights took their final bow and went to the list fields. Cara followed Joanevere and Jayna to the stands and sat between them.

"Your Grace," said Ser Rory, Derrion's Castellan. People had been referring to her in royal terms since the fourth day of Hale's disappearance. It angered her at first, but when a week went by and Hale refused to show himself, she embraced it.

"Ser," she replied with a pleasant nod after taking her seat. She would have smiled more broadly, and spoken freely with the old knight, but she was too consumed with anger and hurt over her brother to ask Ser Rory who he favored in the lists. Instead she stared blankly at the field. Her one glimmer of joy had been the promise of seeing Gammon in action, but Derrion had sent him to deal with a band of robbers seen south of the Towers of Wind. She was crestfallen to learn Gam wouldn't be performing at the tourney, but then she heard the name of the leader of the robber band. He was called the Hood, but she'd known him as the Dyer.

"Kill him, Gam," she'd told him.

"If he gives me no other choice," he replied.

"He deserves it."

"Many men deserve to die, Your Grace, but my duty is to my king's justice, not the whole world's."

"Please, kill him as a favor to me. And stop calling me Your Grace. It feels wrong coming from you."

He sighed. "You and Derry both. Only Joany likes being called by her title, and she acts less royally than either of you two."

"She's mourning her father and brother."

"As are you, Cara, and you wait until dinner to drink your wine, and never have more than a glass or two."

"We all mourn in different ways. Gam, please, kill this man."

"If the opportunity presents itself, I will, as a favour to you. But I'm tasked with securing passage for caravans, not dispensing justice, and my king's commands are paramount to me. Never forget that, Your Grace."

"I won't." She remembered the change in face when he said those last words. The soft, nervous smile she'd grown to love disappeared. Gone was the farmboy and there stood the knight. It was as if he'd donned his helm and hidden his face behind steel.

The crowd applauded as jesters and acrobats filled the field. A dozen or more did cartwheels and somersaults in the air, while a dwarf on stilts dodged them. It was clear he could climb a mountain on his stilts, but he acted as if he might fall with each step. Jugglers threw lit torches in the air, bumped into each other, panicked over their torches, all of which they caught, and a fat man with motley face paint chased a monkey through the stands. Audun was sitting between Istan and Gislain in the row in front of Cara. When the monkey came near them it clung to Audun's neck and refused to let go. The children laughed hysterically, except for the little oddling. He cradled the monkey and whispered softly to it. Eventually the fat man coaxed the monkey with some dried fruit and they resumed their chase through the stands.

"What was your fool's name?" Joany asked.

"Hale," Cara replied.

Joany laughed so hard she spilled some of her wine. She was already on her second cup, and hadn't broken her fast. "Truly now, what was his name? Did he perish during the dwarves' treachery? Or did he flee south with your less loyal lords?"

"We had no fool."

"No fool?!" Jayna was flabbergast.

"Father wouldn't allow any jesters at court. He felt they eroded the reverence kings were due."

"Well," Jayna said, "he couldn't have been more wrong. Kings need a fool to remember they're only men, and not titans born in flesh, as some tend to think. A crown is a mere symbol of splendour, but some of these men think the rays of the sun are beaming out of their own bodies. A fool reminds them that they bleed and fart like anyone else."

"Well, I can assure you my father never thought himself a titan. I would have enjoyed a fool, though."

"I hated our first three," Joany said. "Caliban's good, though."

"A little too on the nose at times, if you ask me," Jayna said. She was running a finger along the dark ring on her left hand.

"I never ask you, Jayna, yet you always answer."

There was a tenuous silence for a few moments after, broken by sounds of awe as Caliban rode onto the field atop a brilliant white courser. The horse had no saddle, and Calliban stood one legged on its back. His other leg was extended behind him, and he leaned forward with his arms spread and flapping like wings.

"Bright is the sky, but dark is the soul who seeks to rise above it!" he shouted as the horse trotted past their stand. The dark gems of his cap glinted blue and green and violet.

A trumpet blast cleared the field of fools and the first round of the melee began. The combatants were squires, and most of them boys.

"That's Jarry's squire," Joany said, pointing to a tall and gangly boy that looked like he was made of dried out straw.

"He's so thin," Cara said. "Can he even lift a sword?"

"Ha! He couldn't at first. Jarry's toughened him up, though. That's why he chose him. Jarry likes to take the softest lump of clay and turn it to the hardest piece of steel. He was once as scrawny as that boy, you know."

Cara struggled to picture Ser Jarral without all his layers of muscle, but she only saw the brawny knight that filled every doorway and blotted out the sun when he stood next to her.

His squire donned his helm, a heavy, oversized bucket, and lifted his heater shield and a long handled handaxe. The bugle was blown, and the boys all ran at each other in a flurry of wood and steel.

"What's his name?" Cara asked.

"Alon," Joany replied.

Cara furrowed her brow. "That's a strange name to give a child."

"I rather like it. His father was more obsessed with the Tides than mine. He also died. Poor little Lonny is an orphan. His mother never survived birthing him. He wanted to be an apothecary so he could save other little boys' mothers so they wouldn't be orphans like him. Ser Jarral had other plans, though."

"How does Jarry know him? Was his father a knight?"

Joany shook her head as she took a hefty sip of wine. "Engineer. He designed artillery. He swore he'd come up with the most deadliest of all trebuchets. Alas, he never lived to prove his claim. Wine!" She held her empty cup aloft and a servant ran to her with a flagon and refilled it.

Every word Joany spoke was in at least a half mocking tone, a trait Cara had not quite gotten accustomed to. She watched the orphan boy as he navigated the field. His steps were awkward, but he kept calm throughout the tempest, striking only when an opponent's guard was down, and always keeping his shield ready. Before long there were only two boys left standing. The rest had been taken to the physician's tent to have their wounds tended. Those with minor injuries stayed to watch the melee to its end.

Alon faced off with a boy many times his size. He kept out of reach, saving his energy for when the bigger boy left an opening, then he'd rush in and land a blow. The bigger boy seemed unphased, though, and often turned to the crowd and shouted with his sword held high. Alon swung at him and the bigger boy wheeled about. He caught the haft of Alon's axe with his shield and the head snapped clean off. Alon leapt backward and pulled a morning star from his belt, then circled the other squire slowly. His opponent sent a storm of heavy thrusts at him, and the orphan boy almost went down. Cara found herself jumping to her feet and shouting the boy's name. "You have him, Lonny, you have him!". The sun almost blinded her blue eyes, and her red hair looked like it caught fire in the noontide glow.

Alon briefly looked her way, and was almost felled by a cleaving blow. He skipped to the side and the sword struck him on the heel. He tripped and fell, then rose three seconds later. His foe had struck so hard his sword was buried in the ground. Alon raised his morning star above his head and brought it down on the bigger boy's helm. The helm rang and split in three pieces, and the boy screamed as red blood dripped from the crown of his head.

Jarry's voice thundered over the rest of the crowd, all the way from the armory halfway across the grounds. He came vaulting over fences and people and ran into the field to lift his squire in the air. The poor boy was spent, and looked like a ragdoll in Jarry's beastly arms.

"That's what that little worm gets for sleeping in a fight!" Jarry shouted at Lonny's foe. The bigger boy's knight came to help him from the field. He looked as if he were about to draw his steel when Jarry jeered him, but thought better and led his squire to the physician's tent.

Cara heard Derrion laugh then for the first time.

"Save it for the tilt, Jarral!" he shouted.

Cara looked over at him. He was flanked by Ser Rory and Ser Erudan, both tall enough men in their own right, but he rose like a mountain above them. He wore full plate, and his armor clinked while he ate and drank.

"Is your brother going to compete?" Cara asked.

Joany shook her head. "Gam's the only one who can take him, and he stays off the lists."

"He doesn't? Why not?"

Joany poured the last of her cup down her throat and wiped her chin with her wrist. "So the other knights have a chance."

"He's really that good?"

Jaony gripped Cara's wrist and squeezed. She turned her head a little too far and bumped her head on the back of her chair. She giggled while cursing her seat for being in her way, then made an effort to look Cara in the eye. "Gammon Foss is the one man to fight the King of Graves and lived to regret it."

Joanevere was speaking loudly, and Derrion looked their way with a frown.

"He fought him? How? My brother told me the King of Graves is a giant!"

"And for once, Hale did not exaggerate. Woten'Ku Netherclaw is the size of a tree, and his bones are hard as ash, so everyone says. Even my brother's afraid of him. And Derry's not afraid of anyone. Oh Cara, I'm so bored. Will you spend the day with me? If you've seen one tourney you've seen a thousand. I want to go walking through the forest and dip my toes in a stream. Please? Oh don't say no. You're the one person hear who doesn't try to kiss my rump. Except for Jayna, but she's a poison tongued harpy. Yes, Jayna, I said it!"

"You say it every day, Highness," Jayna replied. "Go with her, Cara. She'll need someone to carry her back to the keep for supper."

Cara smiled, though she'd prefer almost anything over listening to Joanevere's drunken rants.

"Jarry!" Istan shouted. The knights had all been horsed and were ready to joust. The first match was Ser Jarral and Ser Angney, a barrel chested man with a bull's neck and a toad's head. With his helm on he looked as if he had no neck at all. He almost knocked Jarry off his horse on the first tilt. Jarral discarded his shattered shield and managed to stay mounted. Alon was there to hand him another shield, and Ser Angney's squire gave him a fresh lance. They charged again, and this time Jarral struck Angney, though the knight took the blow as a wall would take a peck from a bird. Two more charges, and both tames Jarral almost went down, until finally he struck Angney square in the center of his head, using his greater height and reach to haul his lance above Angney's shield at the last instant.

"Angney's a rock!" Cara exclaimed. Istan and Gislain were on their feet cheering for Jarral.

"Well, there goes our one chance," she heard Joany say.

"Our one chance of what?" Cara asked as the next two knights lined up.

"Of something different happening. Wine!"

A servant came rushing to her with a flagon, but Derrion stood and reached over Ser Rory to catch the man in his stride.

"Give it a rest, Joany," said her brother.

Joanevere scowled at him, then sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. The joust went on until the sun was clearly to the west of the grounds. There was a reprieve afterward, during which time Derrion lifted his sister in the air and carried her to the physician's tent. Cara followed along, worried the princess might have come to harm. She often drank and slept, but Cara couldn't imagine any natural sleep lasting through the raucous din of a tourney.

"I'll give her a draft of rosemary tea," said one of the physicians.

"Make it strong," Derrion commanded, "and feed her when she wakes." He ordered a quartet of guards to stand by her cot and led Cara to his table. She found an empty seat by Erudan and sat by him.

"Where's your mother, Your Grace?" asked some old lord with a pointed beard and a crooked nose.

"She's resting," Cara lied. Her mother was in one of her humors, the physicians called it. She woke that morning laughing and happy, then began to weep, then began hurrying about the castle ordering people to prepare her King Husband's luncheon. Every few days she would act as if he was alive and well, and soon to return from a journey to another kingdom, or from a meeting with his lords. These flights of fancy always ended in tears. Those at court pretended not to notice, but Cara was quickly growing weary of the sham.

"Have the little ones been a bother?" Cara asked Erudan. He came to her several days before asking her to keep them away from his house. Apparently Audun had seen fit to invite them in and show them around.

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"Not since you scolded them."

"Good."

"You're welcome to come by after the tourney, if you'd like."

Thank Igdrus! "I would! Very much. Thank you."

She had been waiting eagerly for three things; word of Hale, Dennel and Howl's return with word of their people in the south, and Erudan's thoughts on the Voice and her waking dreams. She had to know if she was right to trust it and come to Eruhal, and leave two thirds of their kingdom behind. She hadn't heard a word from the Voice since the the tore and cracked, and fortunately that event had not repeated. But the memory ever present behind the curtain in her thoughts, no matter what else she dealt with. If only one thing could be resolved, then she might have at least a shred of peace.

Jayna tapped the board in front of Cara. "The venison is divine," she said. "His Grace shot and dressed it himself."

Cara poked at her venison with her fork. It looked tender and moist, and perfectly seared, but somehow it made her stomach quiver to look at it. She pecked at a portion of her greens instead.

Another round of jesters took to the grounds after luncheon, followed by a brief play by the Stars. Cara felt happy to see them, though there came a twinge of sadness as well. She couldn't stop herself from remembering how thrilled she was to be seated next to Ror. Audun was even there to make the memory all the more real. Mayhaps I can forgive him, and at least be his friend. Audun was talking loudly about the Tide the Stars were performing this time, but Ror wasn't there to quiet him. Cara remembered how he swatted Yemi, and how she rubbed her head and scowled.

I have to put myself in his place. His kingdom was ravaged by their enemies, and my father played a part. For all I know Grar and Halfi could have been murdered in front of him, as my father was in front of me. Then she saw him looming into the sky, a giant wielding a hammer made of thunder. And she remembered her father's blood splashing on her face, and the cold words he spoke to her in Eruhal. Cara's stomach tightened, and her greens threatened to come back up her throat.

The melee was grand, with over a hundred knights and older squires battling against each other. There were three armies, one much smaller than the other two. Its sparse ranks were filled with veterans warriors, with Jarry as their captain. Ser Angney fought alongside him now, clubbing men down with his mace as a kitten bats at flies. Cara thought sadly how no men from her kingdom took part in the tourney. Dennel could handle a lummox like Ser Angney, and Howl could give any number of these knights a run for their coppers. But they all rode south to search for their people, save the few sworn into service as the new royal guard. Cara had one at least following her at all times, and there were two by her mother and two for the children.

Jarry's group was dominating the field. Angney may have fought like a brute, but he was put in the right place at the right time, while leaner knights with more finesse circled around to flank the ranks occupied by Angney and the other stronger fighters. Jarry fought wherever he was needed, shouting commands while pounding opponents to their knees. His fighting was crude, but he struck fast and with terrible strength. He could run and leap as well as men half his size, and shrug off the heaviest of blows. It was no wonder he fought well against orcs. He was close to their size and power and moved with the control and discipline only human knights learned.

He fought with a bardiche at first, and when it was split by a large squire with a broadaxe he unslung his shield and drew a stout bladed arming sword. Then he fought with far more grace then before. At one point another knight as big as him wrested his sword away and Jarry took a shield from the ground. He battered the other knight down with the shields, using both as weapons, then found a billhook laying nearby and finished the melee with it. When it was won, he and all but two of his fighters still stood. It was marvelous, and took Cara's mind off of matters while it lasted. But when it was over, her heart again took a dark turn. She found a lonely place behind an unoccupied tent to relieve what little she ate of her luncheon, then sat on a bench to regain her strength.

"You look pale, my dear," said one of the Esperians. She was a squat little thing named Hanna, half dwarf by the look of her. "I hear you're going to visit our Erudan later. You should come by my cottage one of these days. My friends and I have just finished writing a book. We'll be reading from it at an inn run by another of our order. It's called the Golden Bough. You can't miss it. It's a beautiful arched building next to a grand old ash tree, in the northern quarter of the outer ward. Look for the tree, then a plaza where the sun beams down especially bright. We'll be reading each day around supper time."

"I'll be sure to attend," Cara said with a faint smile. She suddenly wanted to be far from any other people, in a quiet room with her head on a soft pillow, and a book full of familiar tales in her hands.

It wasn't long before Jayna found her. She was kind and patient, but insisted Cara come to cheer the men who fought in the joust and the melee. She stood by Derrion in Joany's place, and gave her colors to Jarry and Alon. Jarry bowed and kissed Cara's hand, and Alon blushed and nodded awkwardly. She stood for what seemed an eternity as Derrion congratulated the men who had won glory, and gave encouragement to those who failed.

"Come see me before you visit Dan," Jayna said in her ear when the tourney was finally over.

"I don't want to see anyone," Cara replied. They were slowly departing the tourney grounds and heading for the Heavenly Keep. Cara wanted nothing more then to lock herself in her bedchamber and lose herself in a happy book. "I wish Dan would just tell my guard what has to say."

"And what does he have to say?"

Cara sighed and said nothing. They were making their way through the Garden of Fire, one of four gardens that decorated the grounds outside the keep. Marigolds, poppies and trumpet vines were planted in raised terraces lining a network of man-made streams. The stream beds were made of white marble and fed by fountains carved in the shape of swans.

"Very well. Keep your Esperian secrets to yourself. I know everything they have to say already. They never miss a chance to preach their theories, despite all their cultish aires."

"What have you to say, Jayna? I'm very tired and need to rest. Could you not tell me as we walk?"

"You're to be coronated. His Grace is planning the ceremony a fortnight from now."

"I suppose he may as well. Even if Hale is found, or returns, the people will never respect him."

"They rever you, Your Grace. Ours do as well. Our shared plights have helped us to bond, and you've stood tall throughout, and held yourself as a queen. Our folk look to you and then to poor Joany, and the difference is as stark as night from day. You're a shining star, Cara, that blazes in the bright of day."

Lady Jayna's words raised her spirits somewhat, and she managed to take a brief nap before visiting Erudan. She dreamt normal dreams, and saw shining lights behind of wall of water in a deep place. Comfort and affection came from the lights, and when she woke she thought of the dancing stars in Obrus. They were beautiful, so beautiful she allowed herself to go back to them in her mind, even though all memories of Thrond made her sad. She thought of the little ones trying to catch the green lights under their hands, and of laying on the ground and speaking with the dwarves. They were strangers to her then, and as time wore on, the hope of once again having their love grew slowly.

She was nearing Erudan's little house. She could hear Balthazar honking into the window and Dan shouting out of it. A great big crow cawed as it flew overhead, and the sun almost blinded her as she looked towards the bird. She saw an ass being led up the road into the mountains. The road wove perilously upwards to the moon towers, and further still to the Tower of Distant Stars, where Verrold began his rapid descent. It was odd, she thought, that someone would be leading a laden ass up that road.

Balthazar grew quiet at her approach. He padded happily toward her and extended his head to her face. He seemed more like a cat than a bird. She tapped his beak and he fluttered his wings, then went back to the house to honk at the window. Cara laughed, then slowly walked up the path to Erduan's door. She was glad of her dream, however sad the memory it inspired might be. The dancing stars were beautiful, a rare and powerful thing to see, which few ever would. They wove about in her mind's eye as she knocked on Erudan's door. The red and gold chasing the green, warring over it as it moved from one to the next unendingly. The latch to the door turned, and Cara remembered the last thing she saw in that room before they left. A black hole appeared, and a web of dark lines like branches, then the dark shape poked through the web and wormed its way towards the dancing stars. Then a blue light appeared, bright and cold like an arrow of ice.

"The Worm!" she shouted aloud as the door opened. Erudan's eyes went wide and he pulled her in, then went outside and looked to the sky.

"I don't see it," he said anxiously.

"I saw it in Thrond!" Cara exclaimed. Her veins went cold.

"In Thrond? What could you possibly mean?"

"In a cave, on the wall. Not a cave, but a geode. A great big one, big enough to fit a hundred people. They hollowed it out and made a flat floor in it to stand on, and the walls seemed lit from inside. There were little lights dancing around, and just before we left I saw a strange black shape form on the wall across from me. It looked just like the wound in the sky, and the darkness that came through the net that formed around it. Dan, I'm frightened. Why did I see it then? Was it attacking the mountain?"

"That room, or geode, as you called it, is an Ohrric Egg; a font of the power that lies deep within the world. Obrus is rich with ohr, so I'm not surprised you found such a place so alive. There are reported to be others, though they are rare and mostly inaccessible. I envy you, Cara. You saw a precious thing. I'd give anything to have such an experience."

"But why did I see the Worm? Why did I see the wound in the sky? And so long ago? Is Obrus... alive?"

"All the world is alive, Cara. The land, the sea, the sky, even the sun and moon. As to why you saw those things in the Egg, my guess is you didn't. Memories can be easily confused, especially after enduring great hardships such as you have."

"I saw it, Dan. I am not mistaken. I saw it, just as I described it, just as we saw in the sky. As above, so below."

Erudan raised a brow. "Where did you hear those words?"

"In my own mind, at my aunt's wedding. I thought them, I think. Everything was changing and I was realizing just how different things were going to be, and I..."

"You think you thought them?"

"Yes... it was strange, though. It was almost as if I heard them, and then thought of a meaning for them just after. Why?"

"Those are the first words of our deepest teachings. Teachings only the Risen may be shown, and only in the highest tiers."

"The Risen? You mean the Novians and the Fell?"

"Among others. There are more such cults than one could throw a dead swan at."

"Are you not in one of them?"

"No. I am Erudan Penwright and nothing more. My affiliation with the Esperians is a matter of convenience, and they seek only knowledge, not influence over others as the Risen do. I seek truth over all things, and those words you think you thought are the beginning of the most dangerous truth I've ever stumbled upon. The Risen bicker over what to do with such knowledge, the Esperians wastefully ponder over its meaning, while the Black Sun drinks wormwine from everglass basins and dreams of apotheosis. I wish to understand t fully so that it might be put to use."

Cara's heart quickened at the mention of the Black Sun. A cold trickle of sweat snake down the small of her back. She wanted to know about them, but was afraid to ask. "What exactly is this dangerous truth?" she asked.instead. "Am I no longer safe, now that I've heard the words of these cults?"

Erudan sighed and gestured to his common room. Audun was on the floor propped against the wall by the hearth. He was transcribing from one book to the other with the cat stretched over his little legs. Cara sat down on the setl in front of the hearth, and Erudan leaned against the wall, gazing into the flames.

"You must forgive my rant," Erudan said, "You're safer here than you could be anywhere. You see, I chafe at secrets, and those who wish to horde knowledge that belongs to all. No one person, or group of people, can claim the phrase as theirs. One can view it as merely an astute observation with numerous meanings. It is often paired with the saying 'as without, so within'. The most common interpretation, which I find quite valid, is that what is good or ill with the whole is reflected in the piece. But, in the context it was expressed to you, I think it refers to a rumored truth of what we are, what we were, and what we may one day become."

"I don't understand. We are what we are until we die. We never become anything."

"At this time, what you say is true. But there are spans of time so great they are unfathomable to beings of blood and bone, and in that time all things grow beyond their beginnings. But what can an infant know of old age? Only the Ones Who Glow can truly comprehend the great seasons of the stars and the changes they bring."

"The Ones Who Glow?"

"The Titans."

Cara was silent for a moment. "The Titans?" she said at length, trying to be respectful. "You mean the Titans from the stories? Imanna, Orvar, Igdrus, White Wings, Yokomat the Armless..."

"Yes, them. The Forty Six who once were many, and now are only three."

"And the Two," Cara said idly, looking at the oddling.

"You know of the Two?" Erudan looked at her suspiciously down his long nose. "How?"

Cara pointed at Audun. "I told him of my visions. He told me... lots of things."

Erudan nodded, and seemed to have a pitious sort of affection in his eyes. "He knows a great deal. But I don't think he understands the truth behind his knowledge. I guess that to him, the Book of Tides is no more than a place to escape to."

"And what is it for you?"

"An answer."

"To what question?"

The cat stretched and almost knocked over Audun's inkwell.

"No, Cat!" He swatted her rump. She hissed and extended her claws, then closed her eyes and went back to sleep.

"You never named your cat, but you named that swan."

"I named the cat. No one ever asks me her name, is all. It's Ishness, for her peevishness, sheepishness, and her many other ishnesses."

Ishness nestled against Audun and purred loudly.

"What question is the Book of Tides an answer to? I need to know, Dan. I need to know what's happened to me. Why am I seeing things before they happen?"

"My question pertains to things I don't fully understand, but worry over a great deal. As to your dreams, you're not alone, Cara. I've been meaning to tell you that I took the liberty of repeating your visions to His Grace. His father sought the same answers, though Verrold sought other things as well. And he sought too eagerly. When the time is right, we will introduce you to another who has heard the Voice."

Cara felt at once relieved, frightened and intrigued. "Who?"

"When the time is right," Erudan repeated. "For now, I want you to take comfort. As I said, you are not alone. There's a great deal for us to consider, and when dealing with such matters we must tread softly, as the Moorsmen say. For now, tend to yourself and your people. Oh, there is one thing you may do to help the College, and myself, if you don't mind."

"What does the College want from me?" she asked kindly.

Erudan raised a brow and tightened his mouth for a moment. "Do you happen to know how the dwarves learned to forge mannarim?"

Her eyes opened wide and she shook her head. "You'd be better off asking Audun. I never even..."

"We listened to it," Audun blurted. He was still looking at his work. Ishness stirred.

"There you have it," Cara shrugged.

"What do you mean?" Erudan was ignoring her and looking intently at the oddling, who seemed to have nothing more to add.

"Audun," Erudan persisted, "what do you mean?"

The boy spoke without looking up, working away on his books. "It's both a stone and a light. Tap tap tap, words through mountains. Blink blink blink, words through stars."

Cara was about to throw her hands in the air, when trumpets rang loudly outside. Moments later, she heard a great deal of shouting, then the raising of the portcullis and the clopping of hooves within the inner ward.

"They've come back!" She rose and ran to the door. Dennel was leading the van of their horsemen, and the token contingent of Eruhali riders was right behind him. A paltry score of her soldiers were left, and all were wounded and covered in mud. Howl was nowhere to be seen.

"Dennel!" she shouted while running towards him.

"Cara..." he said back. There was so much pain in his voice.

"What happened?"

"Do not speak out here," commanded one of the Eruhali knights. "We'll speak with His Grace in the keep."

Dennel gave Cara a sad look and acquiesced. She was helped onto a riderless horse and rode with them to the stables. They then were escorted by Derrion's guard into the Heavenly Keep, and to his Solar along with the Eruhali captain.

"Howl is gone," Dennel muttered to her in the halls as they walked.

She felt stricken. Derrion opened the door and called for wine. Dennel was strangely quiet until he'd downed a large mug, then sat on a bench and spoke with a quaking voice.

"All our land is overrun by the gnolls. The elves are trying to drive them from our shores, as was done of old, but the gnolls are here in fuller force than ever before, and they've turned our green hills into their battleground. We were caught in a skirmish between the two armies and many died. And our towns and fields are burnt for as far as the eye can see."

"What happened to Howl?" Cara struggled to speak through her clenching throat.

"Howl perished, Your Grace. A stray arrow hit him, from the elven side, I think. Has your brother been found? He must know."

"Hale's gone," she said coldly. "And good riddance. He's more dead in my heart than Howl." Indeed she was feeling a burning contempt for her brother, to have abandoned them at such a time. He deserved to be an exile. "Let him hide in a peasant's stable, wetting his breeches till the Great Year comes. Tell me, Your Grace," she turned to Derrion, "do you still wish to coronate me? Shall I be queen of a dead people?"

"Would you abandon them as your brother has?" Derrion's voice was hard and blunt.

Cara covered her face as she stifled a sob. "Put a crown on my head, then, for all it's worth. Use me as a symbol, and my people. Show yourself to be the Restorer King, so they forget that you were once the Usurper King. I have to go." She stood suddenly and went for the door. She stopped abruptly, then went back and kissed the top of Dennel's head before leaving.