Rhodes stared at his mother for a moment. His shock at her announcement that Queen Charize-the true source of Hanadu's strength-was dead gradually subsided as the rest of her words rang through.
The monster Charize was dead. Not so bad by half if the rest of what she had to say was true. But what was this about an alliance? With powerful figures who shared his hatred for Palimak Timura?
Rhodes grinned. 'Good news, indeed,' he rumbled. He looked about the room. 'Where are these wise men? Bring them out so I can greet them properly.'
Clayre gestured at the golden tiled pentagram in the center of the spelltable. Rhodes peered at it, as if expecting to see something. But it was empty.
'They can't be summoned so easily,' she said. 'They want certain assurances. Assurances, I'll warrant, that you'll be glad to grant.'
'Anything!' Rhodes breathed with deep feeling. 'As long as they'll deliver Timura into my hands.'
Clayre stared at him a moment, as if measuring her son's commitment. Finally she said, 'I'll need to cast some rather complicated spells. And there are certain sacrifices we'll need to make to appease Charize's ghost. Give me a a week or so-a month at the most-and the bargain can be sealed.'
Although he was filled with curiosity, Rhodes didn't question his mother further. Magic made him nervous. It was something he had no talent for, so it was something to be distrusted. One of his secret regrets was that he hadn't inherited his mother's sorcerous abilities. Instead, they'd skipped a generation to favor his oldest child, Jooli.
He'd never liked Jooli. If it had been up to him he'd have drowned her at birth. After all, his first-born should have been a son. A male heir who no one would doubt was the rightful person to succeed him to the throne. Increasing his dislike of his daughter was the early talent she'd shown for things that only a man should have possessed. Strength, speed, skill at arms.
But what had sealed his dislike was the revelation that she was a witch. His mother had informed him of it one day and for a time had tutored the child. All went well for a while and then his mother had reported in great disgust that Jooli had suddenly turned away from her and would have nothing more to do with her grandmother.
Rhodes had chastised his daughter, but although she was quite young she spoke her mind quite plainly.
And she had made it very clear that she had no intention of entering into a spell bargain with Queen Charize, much less help provide the steady stream of sacrificial victims the monster queen had required of Hanadu for time immemorial.
The reasons Rhodes and Clayre hadn't removed Jooli long ago were complicated since they involved the bloody diplomacy Syrapis was known for. Further complicating things was the fact was that Rhodes had found it necessary to not quite withhold his blessing of Jooli as his rightful successor.
This was why he'd ordered her to become a royal hostage to Palimak. And it was his heartfelt desire that when the time came to break his treaty with the Kyranians Jooli would be the very first victim of young Timura's wrath.
His mother impatiently rapped bejeweled fingers on the spelltable, snapping Rhodes out of his reflections.
'Yes, mother?' he asked.
'I didn't summon you,' she pointed out, 'so I assume you came here for some purpose.'
Rhodes nodded and proceeded to tell his mother about what he had seen while spying on the Kyranians.
The enormous coffin bearing Asper's image and the mysterious man who had been carried out of the idol on a stretcher, a man whom all the Kyranians seemed to worship.
Queen Clayre was troubled, frown lines marring her beauty. 'This does not bode well,' she said. 'The coffin was clearly Asper's.'
Rhodes frowned. 'That's ridiculous,' he said. 'How could the Kyranians have taken it from Charize?'
'I told you she was dead,' Clayre reminded him. 'And that Prince Timura was the cause of her death.
Which should give us even greater reason to be especially wary of him. If he could kill Charize, he is even stronger than we feared.'
Again, she rapped her rings on the table. 'Possibly,' she said, 'it has something to do with the man you saw them remove from the idol.'
Rhodes didn't answer. None of this made sense to him.
'Which means,' his mother added, 'that this alliance with these … ah … Timura-haters I mentioned, might be a better idea than even I'd imagined. In fact, I now think their offer has everything to do with the appearance of the mysterious person you observed.'
Then she sighed, as if suddenly weary. 'Leave me, my son,' she said. 'Let me reflect on this.'
She offered a cheek, which Rhodes dutifully kissed and he started for the door.
But just before he left the room a gleam of light caught his attention. He glanced over to the mural just above his mother's spelltable, which was where the glimmer had come from.
The mural was an idealized painting of Hanadu during ancient times when, legend said, Lord Asper had lived in Syrapis. There was the castle, a bit smaller, not quite so imposing as the fortifications Rhodes had built. In the foreground, riding down the winding road leading out of the castle was a troop of soldiers, wearing archaic armor. At their head was the king-a handsome man of middle age. He was flanked by women warriors-his daughters the scholars said.
Rhodes had always admired the pictures of the king's daughters. Strong, fierce, all remarkably beautiful.
Many times he'd dreamed of bedding those warrior princesses. Particularly the ebony-skinned woman who rode next to the king on a stunning black mare. The two of them made a fiery, intriguing pair, so full of life they practically burst out of the mural.
He'd studied that mural many times over the years, so it came as a huge surprise to him that there was a detail present he apparently hadn't noticed before.
Just ahead of the column was a fabulous white stallion. Rearing up before the black mare and her rider.
Hooves striking painted sparks in the air.
He peered closer, wondering why he hadn't seen that magnificent horse before. Something in the back of his mind also wondered if those sparks had been animated a second ago. The reason why his attention had been drawn to the familiar mural.
'Is there something else?' his mother asked.
He almost spoke. But then, as he gazed at the mural it came to him that maybe he hadn't noticed the stallion before because he had always been so intent on the king's shapely daughters.
This was not something a son discussed with his mother. 'No,' he said. 'There's nothing more.'
'Very well,' she said. 'I'll call for you when I know more about our new allies.'
King Rhodes nodded and exited the room.
It was a strange homecoming for Safar. He was barely conscious when he arrived at New Kyrania, the mountaintop home his family and friends had carved out in their wars with the Syrapians.
Of this time he had only vague recollections of bells and pipes and songs sung in praise of someone the villagers must have loved dearly or there wouldn't have been such a grand celebration. He didn't connect that someone with himself.
He had vague impressions of his mother, Myrna, his father, Khadji, and all his sisters gathered about his bed. In the background was the tall figure of a strange person who reminded him of Palimak but who was too old and self-possessed to be the boy he remembered.
Also in this dream-for that was what he thought it was-stood Leiria. Beautiful as always. Strong and steady in her armor. A rock for his homecoming-if that was what this dream was about. And in that dream Leiria stepped through the throng and kissed him-and ah, what a kiss it was. And he felt such regret for steeling himself against that love before.
And in this odd otherworld of Safar's consciousness, he remembered their meeting. A warrior woman, one of Iraj's personal bodyguards, given to him by his former friend. He recalled his guilt about that act-which had required his acceptance. An even greater guilt, since it was against all Kyranian principles and teachings that one human being could be given to another. And he remembered their first days of lovemaking, when he was mourning
