Amolde said. “They remained, however, a discrete culture. Oary might be sent to the Magyar court-“
“Where he would probably ferment rebellion against the Khazars!” Dor said. “Just to keep the action away from Onesti. It would take constant cunning and vigilance-“
“What a dastardly deed!” Irene exclaimed gleefully.
Surprised, they all exchanged glances. “A dastardly deed,” Dor repeated.
“We were cursed to do it,” Irene said. “Before the moon got full-and it’s very nearly full now. Let’s go tell the others how Ambassador Oary is going to the Magyars.”
“Purely in the interest of serving the Kingdom I love so well, to promote the interests of my good friend and restored liege, King Omen,” Oary said philosophically. “It could have been worse. I thought you’d flay me and turn me loose to beg naked in the village.”
“Or feed you to the ogre,” Grundy said. “But we’re soft-headed, and you’re too clever to waste.”
They trooped out. “Oary has graciously consented to be your ambassador to the Magyar court of the Rhazar empire,” Dor told King omen, who had finally completed the receiving line. “He wants only what is best for the Kingdom of Onesti.”
“Excellent,” King Omen said. He had evidently been briefed in the interim. “And who will be Xanth’s ambassador to Onesti?”
“Amolde Centaur,” King Trent said promptly. “We realize that his enforced absence from his home in Centaur Isle is a personal sacrifice for him, but it is evident we need a certain amount of magic here, and he is uniquely qualified. He can escort specially talented Xanth citizens, such as my daughter, when trade missions occur.”
Amolde nodded, and Dor saw how King Trent was facilitating things for the centaur, too. Amolde had no future at Centaur Isle anyway; this put a different and far more positive face on it. Naturally Amolde would not spend all his time here; he would have time to visit his friend Ichabod in the other aspect of Mundania, too. In fact, he would be able to do all the research he craved. There was indeed an art to governance, and King Trent was demonstrating it.
“Ah, your daughter,” King Omen said. “You told me about her, during our long days of confinement, but I took it for the fond imaginings of a parent. Now I think it would be proper to seal the alliance of our two Kingdoms by a symbolic personal merger.”
Dor’s heart sank. King Omen certainly wasn’t reticent! He moved boldly to obtain what he wanted-as a King should. Dor doubted that he himself would ever be that type of person. The irony was that he could not oppose King Omen in this; he liked the man and owed him his life, and Irene liked him, too, and was probably thrilled at the notion. The alliance did seem to make sense, politically and personally.
If there were benefits to being in line for the Kingship, there were also liabilities; Dor had to give way to what was best. But he hated this.
King Trent turned to Irene. “How do you feel about it? You do understand the significance.”
“Oh, I understand,” Irene agreed, flushing becomingly. “It makes a lot of sense. And I’m flattered. But there are two or three little points. I’m young-“
“Time takes care of that,” King Omen said. It was evident that her youth did not repel him, any more than the youthfulness of the doxy had repelled King Oary. “In fact, women age so quickly, here in Onesti, that it is best to catch them as young as possible, while they remain attractive.”
Irene paused, as if tracking down an implication. In Xanth, women remained attractive a long time, with the aid of minor magic.
“And I would have trouble adjusting to a life with no magi-“ she continued after a moment.
“A Queen does not need magic!” King Omen said persuasively. “She has power. She has authority over the entire kitchen staff.”
Irene paused again. “That much,” she murmured. It was evident that men dominated the society of Onesti, while in Xanth the sexes were fairly even, except for the rule about who could be King.
Dor thought of living the rest of his life in Mundania, unable to utilize his own magic or participate in the magic of others. The notion appalled him. He doubted Irene could stand it long either.
“And I’m in love with another man,” Irene finished.
“But the girl’s love has nothing to do with it!” King Omen protested. “This is a matter of state.” His eyes traveled along the length of her legs.
King Trent considered. “We conduct such matters differently in Xanth, but of course compromise is essential in international relations. If you really desire my daughter-“
“Father!” Irene said screamingly.
“Now don’t embarrass your father,” Queen Iris said. Irene reacted with a rebellious frown that she quickly concealed. It was the old syndrome; if her mother pushed something, Irene did the opposite. Dor’s secret ally had struck again. Bless the Queen!
King Trent’s gaze passed across them all, finishing with the Queen, who made the slightest nod. “However,” he continued, “I understand that in some societies there is a certain premium on the, shall we say, pristine state-“
“Virginity,” Irene said clearly.
“But we never-“ Dor started, just before she stomped on his toe.
King Omen had caught the motion. “Ah, I did not realize it was you she loved, blood brother! You came all the way here at great personal risk to help restore my throne; I cannot-“
“Yet a liaison would certainly be appropriate,” King Trent mused.
“Father!” Irene repeated sharply. Queen Iris smiled somewhat smugly in her daughter’s direction. It was strange, Dor reflected, how the very mannerisms that had annoyed him in the past now pleased him. Irene would never go with King Omen now.
“Yet there is that matter of pristinity,” King Omen said. “A Queen must be above-“
“Do you by chance have a sister, King Omen?” King Trent inquired. Dor recognized the tone; Trent already knew the answer to his question. “Dor might-“
‘What?” Irene screeched.
“No, no sister,” Omen said, evidently disgruntled.
“Unfortunate. Perhaps, then, a symbolic gesture,” King Trent said. “If Prince Dor, here, is taking something of value to King Omen, or perhaps has already compromised the value-“
“Yes,” Irene said.
“Shame!” Queen Iris said, glaring at Dor with only the tiniest quirk of humor twitching at one lip.
“But-“ Dor said, unwilling to confess falsely.
“Then some token of recompense might be in order,” King Trent concluded. “We might call it a gift, to preserve appearance-“
“The midnight sunstone!” Dor exclaimed. After an, it was just about midnight now. Without waiting for King Trent to take the matter further, Dor drew it from his pocket. “King Omen, as a sincere token of amity between the Kingdom of Xanth and the Kingdom of Onesti and of my appreciation for the manner you saved my life, allow me to present you with this rarest of gems. Note that it shines in the presence of magic-but turns dull in the absence of magic. Thus you will always know when magic is near.” He gave the gem to King Omen, who stepped out of the magic aisle, then back in, fascinated by the manner the gem faded and flashed again.
“Oh, yes,” King Omen agreed. “I shall have this set in my crown, the most precious of all my treasures!”
But now Irene was angry. “I will not be bought for a gem!” she exclaimed.
“But-“ Dor said helplessly, stepping toward her. Right when he thought things had fallen into place, they were falling out again.
“Stay away from me, you slaver!” she flared, retreating.
“I think I am well off,” King Omen murmured, smiling.
Dor did not want to chase her. It was undignified and hardly suited to the occasion. Also, he could not move rapidly; his fresh wound inhibited him. Yet he was in a sense on stage; he could not let her walk out on him now.
Then he remembered the dime. He had a use for it after all! He clutched it out of his pocket and threw it at her moving feet.
Irene came to an abrupt stop, windmilling her arms and almost falling.
“What-“ she demanded.
