Mortalis

trying to get a measure of the man. 'Do you truly believe that?' he asked.

Andacanavar shrugged his huge shoulders, his expression vague. 'I have lived for many years,' he began. 'I have seen much that I would not have believed possible. Monsters, magic, and, yes, the demon dactyl. I have learned of several religions, your Abellican one included, and I know well the premise of the Abellican Church that the gemstones are the gifts of their god.'

'But your people do not view them that way,' Midalis reasoned. Andacanavar chuckled, showing the Prince that his words were a bit of an understatement. 'My people do not believe in magic,' he said. 'Those practices that transcend the bonds of the elements-the magic of Abellicans and of elves, of demons and of yatol priests-are all the same to us, all wrought in the mystical world of illusion and deceit.'

'And how does worldly Andacanavar view the use of such gemstones? ' Prince Midalis dared to ask.

'I was raised outside of Alpinador,' the man answered. 'I understand the differences between the various forms of magic.'

'And yet you let the man die,' the Prince remarked, his words an accusation though his tone surely was not.

'Had your Abbot Agronguerre tried to use the soul stone upon fallen Temorstaad, Bruinhelde and his warriors would have stopped him, and violently, do not doubt,' the ranger explained. 'They are a simple folk, a people of honor and resolute principles. They do not fear death, but they do fear the realm of the mystical. To them, it was a choice of Temorstaad's body against the price of his soul, and to them, that is not so difficult a choice.'

Prince Midalis shook his head and sighed, showing that he was not impressed.

'Understand that this alliance is a tentative one yet,' Andacanavar warned him. 'Your fears that Bruinhelde and his people would not come to the field this day were justified-for, indeed, had the majority of his warriors been given the choice, they would have turned north for their homes, trying to beat the onset of the winter winds. But Bruinhelde is a wise leader, a man looking past the immediate comforts and to the future welfare of his people. He desires this alliance, though he'll hardly admit it openly. Yet if you or your Abellican companions try to force your ways upon us, if you insist upon foisting the realm of the mystical upon Bruinhelde's warriorseven if you believe you are doing so for the good of those warriors-then know that the goblins will become the least of your troubles.'

'It pained me to watch a man die,' Midalis replied, 'a man who could have been saved.' Andacanavar nodded, not disagreeing.

'And it pained Abbot Agronguerre,' Midalis went on. 'He is a good and gentle man, who battles suffering.' 'But does he fear suffering? ' Midalis shook his head. 'And does he fear death?'

Midalis snorted incredulously. ' If he does, then his title of abbot of the Abellican Church is misplaced, I would say.'

'Neither Bruinhelde nor any of his warriors fear death,' Andacanavar explained, 'as long as they die honorably, in battle.'

Prince Midalis considered the words for a long while, even glanced back over his shoulder to the fallen Temorstaad. The Alpinadoran women were working on him now, taking his valuables and wrapping him in a shroud. Midalis wasn't thrilled with Andacanavar's explanation or the reality of the situation, but he knew that he had to accept it. This alliance with the Alpinadoran barbarians wasn't going to be easy, he recognized. Their customs and those of the Vanguardsmen were too disparate. Midalis' gaze drifted about the field to the slaughtered, hacked goblins, to those Alpinadoran women walking among the goblin bodies, mercilessly slashing any that moved, even sticking knives into a few that did not move, just to be sure. A shudder coursed down the Prince's spine. Not an easy alliance but a necessary one, he realized. He certainly didn't want Bruinhelde and his bunch as enemies! c

'And you brought your womenfolk along for battle,' Andacanavar remarked, noting that many women were also among Midalis' ranks. 'Never would Bruinhelde accept women as warriors. Their tasks are to comfort the warriors, to tend the wounded, and to kill the fallen enemies.'

Prince Midalis couldn't hide the grin finding its way onto his face. 'And does Andacanavar believe this as well? ' he asked slyly, for, while the ranger had made another good point concerning the differences between the two peoples, he had pointedly spoken for Bruinhelde and not for Andacanavar.

'I was raised among the Touel'alfar, and had more than one of the diminutive creatures-females and males alike-put me to the ground,' the ranger replied, and he returned the smile. 'I speak for Bruinhelde and his followers because I understand them. Whether I agree with them or not, whether you agree with them or not, is not important, because they are as they are, and you'll not change that. Nor will your Abellican companions, and woe to them if they try.'

Midalis nodded, and was glad for these few moments alone with the insightful ranger. He knew well the story of Fuldebarrow, where an Abellican church, established to convert Alpinadorans to the faith, had been burned to the ground and all of the missionary brothers slaughtered.

'It might be that I can get them to look past your faults-and that you can get your friends to look past theirs- long enough for the two sides to see the common ground instead of the differences,' Andacanavar said. Then he patted Midalis on the shoulder and headed back for the Alpinadoran lines.

Midalis watched him for a moment, further digesting the words-wise words, he understood. Then he turned to find Abbot Agronguerre hard at work over one of the fallen archers, and he went to speak with the man, to smooth the hard feelings from the morning's disagreements, to remind the abbot that he and his brethren would still be besieged within the abbeyand that Midalis and his followers would be trapped in there as well, if they had been lucky this morning-had not Bruinhelde and his proud warriors come to their aid.

Yes, it would be a difficult alliance, but the ranger's observations gave Prince Midalis hope that Vanguard and Alpinador might use this time of war to begin a lasting understanding.

'Common ground,' he whispered, reminding himself.

'I trust that your day was enjoyable,' Abbot Je'howith remarked to Constance Pemblebury when he found the woman again standing alone at the taffrail, gazing wistfully at the waters of the great Masur Delaval.

Constance turned a sour look upon him, not appreciating his off-color attempt at humor.

'So do tell me,' the abbot pressed, 'did King Danube remember your name?'

Constance stared at him hard.

'In his moments of passion, I mean,' the surprising old abbot continued. 'Did he call out 'Constance'? '

'Or 'Jilseponie'?' the woman finished sarcastically and bluntly, wanting Je'howith to understand in no uncertain terms that he was not catching her by surprise.

'Ah, yes, Jilseponie,' Je'howith said, rolling his eyes and sighing in a mock gesture of swooning. 'Heroine of the north. Would any title do justice to her actions? Baroness? Duchess? Abbess? '

Constance gave him a skeptical look and stared back out at the waters.

'Mother abbess?' the old man continued. 'Or queen, perhaps? Yes, there would be a title befitting that one!'

Je'howith's wrinkled face erupted in a wide grin when Constance snapped a glare over him. 'Have I hit a nerve? ' he asked.

Constance didn't blink.

'You saw the way King Danube looked at her,' Je'howith continued. 'You know as well as I that Jilseponie could find her way to his bed, and to the throne beside his own in Ursal, if she pursued such a course.'

'She would not even accept the barony of Palmaris,' Constance reminded him, but her words sounded feeble even in her own ears.

Now it was Je'howith's turn to stare skeptically.

'She grieves for the loss of Nightbird, a wound that may never heal,' Constance said.

'Not completely, perhaps,' Je'howith agreed, 'but enough so that she will move on with her life. Where will she choose to go? I wonder. There is no road she cannot walk. To the Wilderlands, to St.-Mere-Abelle, to Ursal. Who in all the world would refuse Jilseponie? '

Constance looked back at the water, and she feltJe'howith's gaze studying her, measuring her.

'I know what you desire,' the old abbot said.

'Do you speak your words to wound me? ' Constance asked.

'Am I your enemy or perhaps your ally? '

Constance started to laugh. She knew the truth, all of it, and understood that old Je'howith was taking great amusement from this posturing because he figured that he could win in any event. If Danube married Constance, or