DargonZine Volume 2, Issue 6 -1989

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   D    D  AAAA RRR  G GG O  O N N N   Z     I N N N E     || Issue 6
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 --   DargonZine Volume 2, Issue 6        11/03/89          Cir 861    --
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 --                            Contents                                --
 ------------------------------------------------------------------------
   Trial Before the King      M. Wendy Hennequin     Seber 5-12, 1013
   Knight in Shining Armor    M. Wendy Hennequin     Seber 24-Ober 7, '13
 ------------------------------------------------------------------------
1                          Trial by Fire
                              Part IV
                       Trial Before the King
                       by M. Wendy Hennequin
                  (b.c.k.a. HENNEQUI_WEM@CTSTATEU)

      At the  sound of  a warrior's scream,  Sir Edward  Sothos lurched
 awake and  grabbed his sword, ready  for the attack. The  air was dark
 and not lit by moon or stars. Light streamed from a low crack.
      The ship, that's  right; they were on the ship  bound for Magnus.
 Luthias  was having  nightmares  again. Edward  crossed  the room  and
 gently called the Baron's name. There was a gasp as Connall woke. "You
 should have the High Mage make you a sleeping potion," Sothos advised.
 "You haven't slept well at all on this trip."
      Luthias stared  at Edward as best  he could in the  dark. Luthias
 hadn't slept  well in weeks, not  since the heat wave  had hit western
 Baranur and Luthias received the job  of Duke's Advocate. That job now
 took him from his Barony and his  ward Myrande. It brought him to this
 ship, which in  turn would bring him  to Magnus to try  his cousin and
 his Castellan for treason. Was it  any wonder he couldn't sleep? Every
 time he  closed his  eyes, visions  of horror and  war erupted  on his
 eyelids.
      "You might as  well stay awake," Edward  counseled. "We'll arrive
 in Magnus before dawn. We'll go to see the King right away."
      "King  Haralan accepts  visitors this  early?" Luthias  wondered,
 reaching for his book, "History of the Beinison Emperors."
      "He's received  the message by  now that we were  coming," Edward
 speculated. "And his  doors are always opened to  the Knight Commander
 and the High Mage."
      "Will he want to see me?"
      "Most likely. You are prosecuting the Duke and the Castellan."
      Luthias grimaced at the reminder  and glanced at the locked, iron
 chest  which contained  all the  physical evidence  pertaining to  the
 case. He  had pored over the  contents time and again  with Marcellon,
 who was  defending Clifton Dargon  and Ittosai Michiya. Both  had been
 looking for some hole  in the evidence, some clue to  lead them to the
 real traitors. There  had been none, and there had  been no hints from
 the crystal ball over which Marcellon had brooded in silence.
      Crystal ball  indeed. As if  magic could  help them now.  If only
 Roisart were here,  Luthias thought for the thousandth  time, he would
 find the  hole, reason it all  out, help me through  this. But Roisart
 was dead, Myrande was in Connall, and Luthias was alone.
      "I'm  sure  it will  end  well,  Luthias," the  Knight  Commander
 addressed him  sympathetically. "Not many  in this Kingdom  will think
 Clifton Dargon a traitor."
      "What do they matter?"
      "The King  hears all opinions on  the case after the  evidence is
 presented to the  court. Rest assured that I will  support your cousin
 and your  castellan." Edward  smiled so widely  that his  scar danced.
 "Believe me,  the opinions of the  Knight Commander and the  High Mage
 won't be  taken lightly.  And I'm sure  that Clifton's  relatives will
 support him."
      "The evidence  is very convincing, Sir  Edward," Luthias reminded
 him.  It had  almost convinced  Luthias at  one point.  Thank God  for
 Sable,  who had  brought him  back to  his senses.  Luthias smiled  to
 himself. Thank God for Sable, period.
      Luthias  glanced at  the box  again.  All that  evidence, and  he
 wasn't convinced. Some Duke's Advocate he  was, his heart not truly in
 his duty or his case. Let me  go home, Luthias wished, looking out the
 porthole to see  the towers of the King's castle  in Magnus pierce the
1sun like a score of spears.  Although Luthias had always wanted to see
 Magnus, now all he  wanted was to return to Connall. Go  home and be a
 baron--he  had  never wanted  to  be  a  baron--and stay  with  Sable,
 assuming she had forgiven the fact  that he, drunk and despairing, had
 tried to force himself on her.
      He had thought  much about that last night in  Connall. He wished
 he could  remember it  more clearly,  but the  brandy had  smudged the
 memory  irrevocably.  He  didn't  get far  with  Sable--thank  God  he
 remembered that  much!--but he had toyed  with her, as his  father had
 strictly  prohibited two  years before.  "If  you toy  with her  body,
 you'll toy with her heart! I forbid  you to touch her!" His father had
 actually scared him.  Luthias couldn't fathom why Sable  allowed it to
 go  as  far as  it  had;  she had  told  him  before--not in  so  many
 words--that she  wanted no man but  her beloved to touch  her. Yet she
 had allowed Luthias' touch.
      Luthias shrugged at himself and lit a candle to read by. He hoped
 Sable had forgiven him. She must have, Luthias concluded; she tried to
 say good-bye, but  he in his shame  and guilt could not  face her. But
 still, Luthias did not know for certain.
      All he wanted was  to go home and find out.  Again he wished, Let
 me go home.

      King Haralan,  as Edward had  predicted, admitted the  party from
 Dargon immediately, despite the early hour. "Marcellon!" was the first
 person  the  King  greeted.  "How  good of  you  to  return!"  Haralan
 exclaimed,  only  slightly  sarcastically.  Good mages  are  rare  and
 difficult to  find. "Good morning,  Edward," the King said  the Knight
 Commander. Edward bowed. The smile vanished. "I received your message.
 The  Duke of  Dargon  is accused  of treason?"  The  High Mage  nodded
 gravely. "By whom?"
      The  Baron of  Coranabo came  forward. "At  the trial  of Ittosai
 Michiya, the witness  said the accused and a  Bichanese merchant spoke
 of a plot by Bichu to take Dargon with the help of the Duke."
      "A Duke," Luthias interrupted.
      "Who are you, sir?" the King addressed him sternly.
      "I  am Luthias  Connall, your  majesty," he  replied proudly.  He
 knelt, as his father had taught him was proper.
      Marcellon gestured to Luthias and added, "The Baron of Connall is
 the Duke's Advocate, your majesty."
      Slightly amused at Luthias' gesture, the King motioned Luthias to
 rise.  "You  are  the  Duke's Advocate?"  Luthias  nodded.  "We  shall
 question you, then, Baron. First, who  is this Ittosai Michiya who was
 tried?"
      "He is a  man who left Bichu  because he won a duel  of honor and
 was sought by the dead man's family," Luthias explained. "He has lived
 in Dargon for two  or three years. He once worked  for Lord Dargon and
 then went on a quest in  the countryside." Luthias paused, then added,
 "He is now my Castellan, your majesty."
      The King's  eyebrows rose.  "Indeed. Was Castellan  Ittosai found
 guilty by the Tribunal?"
      Baron  Vladon stepped  forward to  answer.  "We never  came to  a
 conclusion, your majesty.  We brought the case to you,  as it involved
 Duke Dargon."
      "There  is evidence,  Baron?" the  King addressed  Luthias again.
 Luthias nodded. "Is  there anyone to defend Duke  Dargon and Castellan
 Ittosai?"
      "I shall, your majesty," Marcellon replied. "The Baron of Connall
 has been kind enough to allow me to go over the evidence."
      "Very well," the King concluded.  "Well, we have already summoned
 the nobles. Are the Duke of Dargon and Castellan here?"
1     "They are on the ship, sire," Edward told him. "I've already sent
 a detachment to escort them to the Keep."
      "Very well.  We will  begin this afternoon."  The King  nodded to
 Baron Vladon, Rish Vogel, Baron Coranabo, and Luthias in dismissal.
      The  older men  filed out  of the  room, but  Luthias lingered  a
 moment, attempting  to decide.  Now was  the time;  there would  be no
 other chance, and  he couldn't do this thing. Ask  the King, Sable had
 said, and maybe  she had been right. He turned,  but was uncertain how
 to begin.
      Luckily, the King saw him. "You wish to speak, Baron Connall?"
      "Yes, your majesty," Luthias began  after a heavy sigh. There was
 only one thing to do, and he would do it. "I wish for you to put Baron
 Coranabo or  Baron Vladon in  charge of the  case against the  Duke of
 Dargon and Ittosai Michiya."
      "Why?  You are  the Duke's  Advocate; you  know the  evidence and
 circumstances better  than they,"  the King argued.  "That is  why the
 Duke's Advocate is summoned as well, to try the case."
      "I know,  your majesty, but  I cannot try  the Duke of  Dargon or
 Ittosai Michiya."
      "Don't you understand  the evidence?" the King  prompted. "I knew
 your father, Baron Connall; you cannot be uneducated or stupid. Why--"
      "Because Ittosai Michiya is my friend. He has been loyal and good
 to me. He saved my brother's  life," Luthias began, his tone desperate
 but his  voice quiet. Beneath the  words, Edward heard the  screams of
 Luthias' nightmares. "Because the Duke of  Dargon is my cousin and has
 been like a brother to me for as long as I can remember. He is my only
 living kinsman, and I--my brother is dead and so is my father. I can't
 do this, your majesty."
      The King  gazed at Luthias  thoughtfully, and the young  Baron of
 Connall stared  at the monarch  with a  mixture of calm  and strength.
 Luthias knew  he must be a  sight: his well-formed face  disfigured by
 lack of sleep  and tension more than  it ever had been  by the slight,
 white scar above  his right eye; his bearing a  mixture of fatigue and
 strength; and his words a mixture of bravery and desperation. Well, he
 and Roisart had always been a pair of paradoxes...
      "You are the Duke's Advocate," the King repeated. "Go and do your
 duty, Baron Connall."
      Fire  blazed beneath  Luthias' brown  eyes a  moment; the  flames
 quickly died,  and Luthias'  face turned to  stone. He  bowed stiffly,
 turned, and left without another word.
      The King turned to his High  Mage, who raised an eyebrow, then to
 his  Knight  Commander, who  was  openly  seething. "His  only  living
 kinsman,  Haralan!" Edward  protested through  his teeth.  "He doesn't
 deserve this from you!"
      "He is Fionn Connall's son, is he not?" the King inquired calmly.
 "The one whom Fionn  Connall wanted you to train, the  one you wish to
 make a Knight?"
      Edward nodded. "He'll be in no condition--"
      "I agree,"  Marcellon interrupted. "Unless you  have an excellent
 reason for  keeping him  as prosecutor,  I would  remove him  from the
 strain.  It isn't  an easy  thing  for Luthias  to try  men he  thinks
 innocent, men  who are  like brothers  to him.  He's already  lost one
 brother this year,  your majesty. Through this trial he  may cause the
 death of  his cousin  and friend.  I'm not sure  how he'll  handle the
 stress."
      "If  he cannot  do so,  he doesn't  deserve Knighthood,"  Haralan
 argued casually.
      "Luthias will be knighted, all  right," Edward argued, "but he'll
 never be  the same." The  Knight Commander  turned to his  King again.
 "Haralan,  Luthias Connall  is one  of the  finest fighters  I've ever
1seen. There is  a war coming; I'm  certain now. Think whom  you may be
 turning against you."
      Haralan smiled at  the scarred Knight Commander. "I  don't want a
 Knight who will turn on me, Edward.  If he turns, he'll turn now, when
 I've oppressed  him. I would  rather know now  what he's made  of than
 wait until his loyalty is  crucial." The King's face waxed thoughtful.
 "His loyalty  is worth  having. I  want him  to prove  I have  it. His
 loyalty for me has to come before any other."
      Edward shook his head. "I don't like it, Haralan."
      "Nor I,  your majesty," Marcellon  added. "He is the  only living
 kinsman  of the  Duke of  Dargon; Clifton's  maternal cousins  are all
 dead. If  Clifton is proven  guilty, Luthias will become  Duke Dargon,
 despite the  fact that Clifton  has fathered an unborn  child. Luthias
 doesn't want the Duchy--"
      "Still, people will expect that he does," the King argued easily.
 "And if Baron Connall cannot prove Dargon guilty with that motivation,
 people will accept  the Duke's innocence more easily."  The King rose.
 "And now,  gentlemen, if you would  join me for breakfast,  I would be
 much obliged. There is much that we need to discuss."

      Luthias stormed through  the halls of Crown Castle.  How dare he!
 Clifton  was  the  only  person  Luthias had  left,  the  only  living
 kinsman...oh, he had a few female  cousins on his mother's side, girls
 he had never met, but Clifton  was a brother! And Michiya, Michiya his
 friend and rescuer and teacher! And he would have to try him; the King
 so ordered.  "Your first  duty as  a Knight is  to your  country, your
 home, and  family," Sir Lucan had  told Luthias long ago,  in that hot
 summer  when he,  his wife,  and  Clifton's parents  had died.  "After
 these, you  must serve  the King."  For the second  time in  his life,
 Luthias found himself not wishing for Knighthood.
      "Connall?" a soft,  female voice called him,  and slowly, Luthias
 turned. Facing  him was a tall,  statuesque woman of middle  age, with
 auburn hair streaked by white.
      Luthias stared  at her, confused  and not remembering.  The woman
 looked familiar, but  he couldn't place it. The lady  laughed. "I know
 you don't remember me; I haven't seen  you since you were a small boy.
 You look so  like your father that I recognized  you. You are Luthias,
 are you not?" The Baron of Connall nodded. "I am your Aunt Tornia."
      That was  it. She looked like  his mother, that laughing  face on
 the portrait in the study. She was his mother's sister, the Duchess of
 Asbridge. Luthias  could remember when  she last visited; he  had been
 five years old, and  she had brought him and his twin  a box of wooden
 soldiers. Luthias bowed to her, unable to speak.
      Tornia  Asbridge  reached  out  and  touched  Luthias  hair  with
 maternal concern. "You don't look well, Luthias. Are you ill?"
      "No,  Aunt Tornia,"  Luthias replied  breathlessly. "I'm...tired,
 that's all." It  was true; Luthias felt exhausted.  Well, almost true:
 it wasn't all.
      "Are you  here because of the  trial of the Duke  of Dargon?" the
 Duchess asked, taking  her nephew's arm. "He is your  kinsman; are you
 here to defend him?"
      Luthias' throat felt like sand.  "I'm the Duke's Advocate. I must
 try  to prove  him guilty."  Suddenly,  the Baron  of Connall  stopped
 walking and turned to  his aunt. "How did you know  I was Luthias, and
 not Roisart?"
      The Duchess' blue eyes looked at him quizzically. "Your seneschal
 sent me  a letter--on  your orders,  I assume--which  told me  of your
 father and brother's death."
      Yes, that was  right; after Roisart's death, he  hadn't wanted to
 handle all  that, so Sable  took care  of it. Suddenly,  Luthias' mind
1could only  see his brother's corpse,  ripped by the two  bolts. "Aunt
 Tornia, could you take me to the Keep?"
      "Whatever for?" the  Duchess of Asbridge asked  in surprise. "The
 worst of noble criminals are there."
      "I want to see my cousin."

      Built four  hundred years ago on  the southern edge of  the Royal
 Quarter of Magnus,  the Keep stood five stories high,  with six towers
 two stories taller. For a hundred years, it had housed the King. After
 that, it became home to nobles convicted of horrid crimes less hideous
 than  treason. Now,  the  top of  the southeast  tower  was prison  to
 Clifton  Dargon  and  Ittosai  Michiya.  Although  exhausted,  Luthias
 climbed the stairway while his aunt Tornia waited for him below.
      The guards  at the door halted  him. "No one's allowed,  my lord.
 You can question them at the trial this afternoon. High Mage's orders,
 my lord."
      "I am the Duke's Advocate  of Dargon," Luthias explained. "I have
 come to  see the  Duke. Surely  the High  Mage would  allow it.  It is
 imperative."
      "We can't forbid the Advocate," the second guard argued.
      "You want to tell the High Mage?" the first returned.
      "Let  him in!"  Marcellon's voice  echoed amiably  from the  room
 beyond the guards. "Baron Connall is permitted, by order of the King."
      Odd, Luthias thought  as the guards admitted him.  He walked into
 the  half-circle room  lit by  the  noontime sun.  Ittosai stood  upon
 seeing his lord; Marcellon and Clifton nodded.
      "How are you doing, manling?" Clifton asked, trying to sound like
 he  was teasing,  but the  words  came out  harshly, impatiently,  and
 angrily. "You don't look very well."
      "The  King won't  take me  off the  case," Luthias  blurted. "I'm
 sorry." The  Duke's Advocate glanced  sorrowfully at Clifton,  then at
 his friend Michiya. "I tried. There's nothing I can do. I--"
      "Do  what   you  must,"  Michiya   told  him  gently,   his  eyes
 understanding.
      "But I know that neither of you is guilty!"
      "Don't say  that!" Clifton  snapped, abruptly standing.  "I don't
 want  you pulled  into this  too, Luthias.  If--" The  Duke of  Dargon
 looked away to face the horror. "I  want you to take care of Lauren if
 nothing can be done to save my life."
      "Clifton--" the  Baron began to  protest. He didn't even  want to
 think about that possibility anymore.
      "He's right, Luthias," Marcellon interrupted gently. "He may die.
 There may be nothing  I can do to convince the King  and the nobles of
 his innocence and Lord Ittosai's. You  must keep yourself free of this
 madness."
      Luthias sighed and collapsed into a  chair tiredly. "I want to do
 something. But  there's nothing--" He  looked away. "And I'll  have to
 stand by and watch you die, just as  I had to watch my father die, and
 Roisart die. And again, there will be nothing I can do."
      "Hey, manling," Clifton said softly, "you can't fight the King."
      Well, he could, but it wouldn't be Knightly. What would Sir Lucan
 have done, what would Sir Edward do? "I'm sorry I have to do this."
      "Do  the best  you  can,  manling," Clifton  advised  him with  a
 half-smile. "I want to be proud of you."
      Luthias  tried  to  laugh,  but  it  came  forth  a  snort.  With
 difficulty, he rose to leave. "I'll see you soon," he mumbled over his
 shoulder.
      "Take care,  Luthias-sama," Michiya  said as  the Baron  left the
 room.
      "I'm  worried about  him," Clifton  said quietly  after the  door
1closed behind his  cousin. "He doesn't look well, Father,  and I'm not
 certain--"
      "I'll do what I can to take care of him, no matter what happens,"
 the High Mage promised his son-in-law.
      "Make certain that he marries Myrande," Ittosai Michiya suggested
 with the tone  of a command. "That  will be the best for  him, and she
 will take care of him."
      Clifton smiled. "I should order him, as Duke, to do that, in case
 we die."
      "I  will do  what I  can to  make certain  that doesn't  happen,"
 Marcellon promised sincerely.
      "There is no hope for us," Michiya snapped.
      "You must learn to trust in God," the High Mage gently advised.
      "God!" spat Ittosai Michiya disdainfully. "There is no such thing
 as gods!"
      Marcellon  looked  at  the  Bichurian  Castellan  and  raised  an
 eyebrow.  "I have  been both  mage  and physician  for thirty  years,"
 Marcellon told  him. "I  have seen things  impossible for  medicine or
 magic, Michiya."
      Ittosai  laughed  contemptuously. "So  I  have  as well.  I  once
 thought I  was led and protected  by a god. I  roamed the countryside,
 doing and seeing miracles. And  then this--god--led me back to Dargon.
 And for what?"  Michiya snorted with disdain. "To see  a boy murdered,
 to see the man  who was once my lord tried for  treason, to be accused
 of a crime I  have not committed, and to see  Luthias-sama go mad with
 the strain! There is no such thing as gods!"
      "We shall see," the High Mage answered.

      Two  long  days. Luthias  was  beginning  to wonder  exactly  how
 exhausted  he could  become before  he collapsed  dead. That  would be
 nice: Fionn  Connall, dead from  a fall  on a horse;  Roisart Connall,
 killed  by  assassins;  Clifton  Dargon,  beheaded  for  treason;  and
 Luthias, dead of exhaustion from the trial. It would be the end of the
 family line.
      At  least  he  had  managed   well,  he  thought.  Marcellon  had
 complimented his  presentation of the  evidence, as had  Baron Vladon.
 Luthias presented  the evidence--all the evidence--impartially,  as if
 he didn't care one way or the  other what became of the Duke of Dargon
 or the Castellan of Connall. Calmly, he questioned Danal the merchant.
 Luthias called  forth Rish Vogel  to prove  that the man  indeed could
 understand Bichanese (which, unfortunately, he did). Luthias presented
 the document to  the King. Haralan reviewed it, then  had the piece of
 refuse read  aloud for  all the  Court to hear.  The Baron  of Connall
 questioned Barons Coranabo  and Vladon, who had found  the document in
 the Duke's office. And Luthias himself corroborated that it was indeed
 Clifton's handwriting.
      Throughout  it all,  Luthias was  impartial as  he was  with such
 cases in  his history books.  Clifton was sober and  agitated; Ittosai
 Michiya was stone calm, as if he hadn't heard a word. Marcellon seemed
 simply to be biding his time.
      Then, it was the High Mage's turn. He questioned Ittosai Michiya,
 who swore on all he held holy that he would never do such a thing, and
 that he had  not. Michiya told of  the swords he bought,  and the chop
 sticks for  Myrande. Clifton, on the  stand, said he was  surprised at
 the  findings in  his desk  and  also swore  he knew  nothing of  this
 so-called plot.  The Duke also revealed  that a thief had  broken into
 his keep  a few months  ago. They had found  the thief where  they had
 found the document: in the Duke's study.
      The High Mage  questioned Luthias, too, and the  Baron of Connall
 corroborated that  he had received  as a gift  a katana, and  that his
1seneschal, Myrande,  had been  given the  chop sticks.  Then Marcellon
 questioned the  nobles of the  duchy who  had come, every  single one,
 except Luthias. And each said that they never would have expected that
 Clifton Dargon would betray the Kingdom. Half of them said they didn't
 believe it now.
      Of course,  Luthias was  unsure of  who spoke  truth. He  had his
 doubts about  that slimy  Danal, and  he had  never quite  trusted the
 Baron of  Coranabo. Oh,  all had  been sworn in  by the  Master Priest
 himself,  but the  Baron  of  Connall knew  that  oaths  did not  bind
 dishonorable men,  and the King would  not permit Marcellon to  cast a
 spell that would insure that only  truth was spoken. The King believed
 in honor, as did Luthias, but the King, Baron Connall thought, trusted
 too much that all people possessed it.
      And on the third day, the King  stood. "We are soon to decide the
 fate and guilt--or lack of it--of the Duke of Dargon and the Castellan
 Ittosai  Michiya." Couldn't  *any*one  in this  Kingdom  say his  name
 right? Luthias wondered. "We will hear our nobles' opinions."
      The Duchess of  Narragan rose. "Your royal majesty,  I advise you
 to behead  the traitors.  The evidence which  the Duke's  Advocate has
 presented removes all doubt."
      "I doubt the Duke of Dargon  is guilty," Edward Sothos replied to
 this.
      "How well do you know him?"  argued Dame Martis Westbrook, one of
 Sir Edward's two  Knight Captains. She was tall, of  light brown hair,
 and hazel eyes.
      "Dame Martis is  correct," said the Duke of  Pyridain, the King's
 Royal Treasurer.  "We have the evidence  here before us, but  we don't
 know the Duke  of Dargon well enough  to know how much  credit to give
 his story."
      "True," Baron Vladon agreed. He stood. "Your majesty, Duke Dargon
 has been a Duke  for six years. When Lek Pyle, who  had the late Baron
 of Connall and the current Baron's brother murdered, went to trial, he
 spoke of a  conspiracy going on for  about as long as  Duke Dargon has
 ruled. How are even we, the nobles  of his Duchy, to know if he hasn't
 been involved all this time?"
      "Quite so," Coranabo interjected. "We didn't grow up with him. He
 spent most of his time with tutors,  or at the University. And we only
 see him at state functions."
      "None  of  us  know  him  well  enough  to  judge,"  Dame  Martis
 concluded.
      "The Baron  of Connall would," Duchess  Tornia Asbridge supplied,
 smiling. "He  grew up with  the Duke,  and he knows  Castellan Ittosai
 well. Tell me,  Baron," Aunt Tornia began, facing her  nephew, "do you
 think Duke Dargon committed this crime? And what of Ittosai Michiya?"
      Tiredly, Luthias rose. "Your grace,"  he addressed his aunt, then
 turned  to the  King. "Your  majesty,  I am  a practical  man. I  have
 evidence, physical evidence, which proves the Duke of Dargon guilty. I
 have witnesses who have sworn oaths and have testified to the guilt of
 Ittosai Michiya." Luthias  paused, looked King Haralan in  the eye. He
 suddenly felt that his exhaustion had  left him, and what remained was
 strength and  certainty. "Your  majesty, my  cousin has  not committed
 treason, nor has my castellan betrayed the country which has sheltered
 him."
      The collective court murmured at  the confidence of his voice and
 of his  conviction. "You  sound very sure,  Advocate," the  King noted
 calmly. "You do not believe the evidence?"
      "No,  your  majesty,  I  do  not. I  believe  the  Duke  and  the
 Castellan."
      "I can understand trusting their words above that of the merchant
 and  of Lek  Pyle,"  the  Duchess of  Narragan  commented, "but  above
1physical proof? How can you be so sure?"
      "Madam," Luthias answered calmly,  looking at the pretty Duchess,
 "I know Clifton Dargon, and I know Ittosai Michiya."
      "But  the  documents,"  began  the  Duke  of  Northfield.  "Baron
 Connall,  surely you  can't ignore  them. You  yourself said  that the
 document was in Duke Dargon's handwriting and seal."
      "I did," Luthias agreed. "That  didn't mean that Clifton wrote it
 or sealed it."
      "You contradict yourself, sir," Martis Westbrook pointed out.
      "Not  at  all,"  Marcellon  easily  disagreed.  "A  forger  could
 reproduce Duke  Dargon's hand, and  as the incriminating  document was
 found locked in  the Duke's desk, the criminal who  broke in and might
 have put it there could have easily used the Duke's own seal upon it."
      "This is quite an impasse," the King commented, and the people in
 the great  hall immediately quieted  to hear him. "We  have convincing
 evidence that Duke  Dargon and Castellan Ittosai  have indeed betrayed
 this country." Behind  Luthias, a door opened. A  herald scurried past
 the Duke's Advocate  and the High Mage and knelt  before the King. The
 King motioned  him forward, but  continued speaking. "We  have equally
 convincing testimony and  logic which prove the  opposite. Therefore I
 order a trial by combat."
      There was a loud murmur. "Baron Connall," the King continued, "as
 Duke's Advocate, you  must summon the Ducal champion to  fight for the
 Duchy's good."
      "I  am  the  Ducal  champion, your  majesty,"  Luthias  announced
 quietly.
      "I see," the King said slowly.  On his left, Sir Edward grimaced.
 "You must fight for their conviction." King Haralan turned to his High
 Mage. "You, with the Duke of  Dargon and the Castellan of Connall, may
 name a champion to fight for your cause."
      Ittosai Michiya  stood and  bowed toward  the ruler.  "Your royal
 majesty,"  the Castellan  began slowly  and with  dignity, "with  your
 permission and the permission of the  Court and the Duke, I will fight
 for our innocence."
      Luthias closed his  eyes in despair and anger. Yet  once again he
 would  be pitted  against  his  friend! He  would  have  to fight  for
 something he didn't believe in, perhaps cause Michiya's death--
      But then he remembered the Sy  tourney and exhaled in relief. The
 duel would be to the death--his own death. Ittosai could beat him, and
 they both knew it. Luthias was unsure that Michiya would actually kill
 him; however,  at least  Clifton and  Michiya's innocence  and release
 would be guaranteed.
      But, Sable...he hated the thought of dying and leaving her--
      He stopped the  thought swiftly and angrily.  Never mind. Clifton
 would take  care of Sable, and  she would take care  of herself. "When
 shall we  fight?" Luthias inquired  quietly. I'm sorry, Sable,  but it
 has to be done.
      The  herald  whispered  something  in his  sovereign's  ear.  "An
 ambassador has arrived  from the Beinison Empire,"  the King announced
 suddenly.  A buzz  of  curiosity rose  from the  crowd  of nobles.  An
 ambassador from the Emperor of Beinison? Here? "Therefore, we postpone
 combat to  hear him. After  that, there need be  no delay, if  you are
 ready, Baron  Connall." Luthias nodded. "And  you, Castellan Ittosai?"
 Michiya  bowed  his  head  with  respect.  "Let  the  ambassador  come
 forward."
      Pages strenuously pulled open the heavy double doors leading into
 the great  hall of  Crown Castle. Walking  nervously but  with dignity
 came two  men. One was a  blond, blue-eyed boy--he can't  be more than
 seventeen!  Luthias  thought  in  surprise--who  must  have  been  the
 ambassador from  the Beinison Emperor  Untar II. The other  young man,
1Luthias knew, was not the ambassador; he was Tylane Shipbrook, Sable's
 cousin. The young  Baron of Connall wondered what he  was doing there.
 As Tylane passed Luthias, he gave  the young Baron a pained look which
 injected panic in Luthias' heart. Sable!
      The  young   ambassador  bowed   to  King  Haralan,   who  nodded
 respectfully in  return. "Greetings," King  Haralan spoke to  him. "We
 welcome you to our home. I am told you are the Count of Tyago?"
      That boy, a Count? An  astonished murmur spread through the Court
 as quickly  as the  Red Plague.  Why, no man  Baranur could  hold that
 authority without  having reached  twenty-one years!  A boy,  a Count?
 Luthias regard the younger man coolly. Well, he held himself well, for
 a man so young, but the Baron  of Connall was certain that Count Tyago
 was  no warrior.  He stood  incorrectly for  that. He  was a  scholar,
 Luthias  somehow knew.  Something  in the  innocence  in Tyago's  face
 reminded Luthias of his twin, and  the Baron of Connall looked away as
 Count Tyago spoke to the King.
      "I greet  you, your royal  majesty, in  the name of  his Imperial
 majesty, Emperor  Untar," the Count began  in a heavy accent.  "I come
 bringing tidings of peace in this time of war."
      "War?" King Haralan  questioned. "What mean you,  sir? Baranur is
 not involved in a war."
      "Your royal  majesty," the  boy-Count began again,  "his imperial
 majesty  knows well  of the  danger you  suffer from  the heathens  in
 Bichu." Luthias  grimaced at the implication;  Michiya's eyes narrowed
 at the insult. "The Emperor has sent  me to represent him here in your
 royal majesty's Court, and to make an offer to you."
      Something  was nagging  at the  edge  of Luthias'  brain, but  he
 couldn't  focus one  it.  Tylane  sent the  Baron  of Connall  another
 stricken glance. Luthias worried.
      "As ambassador, we welcome you," the King replied. "It is good of
 the Emperor to send you. What is this offer he proposes, Count Tyago?"
      "As you  will, most likely,  soon be  at war, your  majesty," the
 Count  of Tyago  explained innocently,  "his imperial  majesty, Untar,
 offers you a hundred thousand men,  troops to protect you from Galicia
 and the other countries to your east  when you send your men to war in
 Bichu."
      The nagging tug turned into clanging bells and war drums. Luthias
 darted from his chair to where  Rish Vogel, the Chronicler, sat. "Does
 this place have a library?" he hissed at Vogel, who was here acting as
 Scrivener. Confused, the Chronicler nodded. "Do you know where it is?"
 Again, Vogel nodded. "Go there, quickly, and bring me a book--'History
 of the Beinison Emperors.' Now. Go!"
      "Why?" Rish Vogel asked, leaning toward Luthias annoyingly. "What
 for?"
      "Don't ask. Do it!" Luthias  demanded, shoving the Chronicler out
 of his seat violently. Vogel gave Luthias the look he might have given
 a madman, but he scurried out  of the room in obedience. Luthias stood
 straight, noticed Sir Edward giving  him a strange stare, and returned
 to his own seat before the King.
      "That is truly a gracious offer,"  the King was saying as Luthias
 sat. Apparently,  the Count Tyago  had elaborated, but  Luthias hadn't
 heard a word.  Vogel had better hurry with that  book! "We will indeed
 consider it. For now, Count Tyago,  accept our thanks and our welcome.
 We will have rooms prepared immediately for you and your companion."
      "I thank you, your majesty," said the boy-Count of Tyago, bowing.
      "I also thank you, your majesty," his companion said, "but I have
 relatives in  Magnus. My father,  the Baron  of Shipbrook, sent  me to
 guide the Count Tyago."
      "He did  well," the  King praised  Tylane's father.  "Our thanks,
 Lord Shipbrook. Welcome to the  Court." Tylane bowed in gratitude. "If
1you would be so  kind, please escort the Count to  the guest rooms. We
 will hold  a feast  in your  honor tonight, Count  Tyago. You  are, of
 course, invited, Lord Shipbrook."
      Both of the  young men bowed and were escorted  out of the throne
 room. Rish  Vogel collided with  Tylane on the  way in. The  Court was
 making a  noise which reminded  Luthias of  a hornets' nest.  The Wasp
 King,  coming  to  get  us!  a  hysterical  part  of  Luthias  thought
 gleefully.
      "What think  you, Knight Commander?"  the King was saying  to his
 advisor. "A generous offer--"
      Panting,  Rish Vogel  dropped  a heavy  tome  on Luthias'  table.
 Without  asking  permission  to   speak,  Luthias  rose.  "Your  royal
 majesty," the  young Baron of  Connall spoke urgently, "do  not accept
 the offer!"
      The King turned toward the  daring young noble. "You sound rather
 sure of yourself, Baron Connall," he observed, smiling slightly, as if
 he knew a secret. "What is the matter with it?"
      "It's a trick, an old one," Luthias informed him, his voice quick
 and concerned. "Listen,  your majesty." Luthias opened  the heavy book
 before him,  flipped a few pages  until he found what  he needed. "'In
 this  time, the  Emperor Radnok  VIII wished  to take  the country  of
 Alannor. It  was a great  and powerful country,  and to take  it would
 involve great  losses. The Emperor sent  many men to the  country, and
 with them, began a rumor that Alannor's neighbor, Jardrine, would soon
 attack.  When Alannor  sent troops  to Jardrine,  the Emperor  offered
 troops to Alannor's King, to  help hold the country against Jardrinian
 invaders. When  the troops were  settled, the Emperor  had effectively
 occupied the territory.'" Satisfied, Luthias closed the book.
      "I've never heard  of this Alannor, or Jardrine,"  the Duchess of
 Narragan protested.
      "No, of course not, your grace," Luthias answered her. "They were
 both...absorbed  into  the  Beinison Empire  centuries  ago."  Luthias
 turned his attention back to the monarch. "Your royal majesty, this is
 an old  trick. I can  cite at least  eight other examples  of Beinison
 doing this. Now they are trying to convince that Bichu will attack us.
 Then they'll move their troops in here and never leave."
      "That's preposterous!" the Baron  of Coranabo protested. "We know
 that the Bichanese are going to invade any day. The document--"
      "Is probably a forgery," Marcellon finished. "Your royal majesty,
 if Baron Connall is correct--"
      "Yes, I  see, High Mage.  If Baron  Connall is correct,  then the
 Beinison Empire has been trying to make us believe Bichu would attack.
 We then would attack Bichu, and  while we were there, the Beinisonians
 could invade us.  Yes, Lord Marcellon, I understand  what this means,"
 Haralan finally answered the High Mage's unfinished question. The King
 turned back to Luthias. "Pray continue, Baron Connall."
      "Your majesty,  this is  ridiculous!" Coranabo  interrupted. "You
 have seen the document."
      "It is forged. It means nothing," Luthias asserted scornfully.
      "You  cannot  prove  it  forged," Coranabo  reminded  the  Duke's
 Advocate. "Baron, this  is only speculation. May I remind  you that as
 Duke's Advocate, you must prosecute this case?"
      "Baron Coranabo," the King spoke, and the buzzing comments of the
 Court ceased. "What is important is  the truth. Knowledge of the truth
 of this  matter is  crucial to  the Kingdom. As  he has  presented the
 evidence, it is now Baron Connall's right and duty to seek the truth."
      Grateful, Luthias  smiled at  the King, but  Coranabo desperately
 continued, "The future  of this country is an attack  from Bichu! Look
 at the document!"
      "I  did not  write that  document or  order it  written," Clifton
1Dargon asserted firmly. "Your majesty, it is a forgery."
      "Of course you protest your  innocence," Coranabo scoffed. "It is
 true. You are a traitor. You cannot prove it a forgery."
      "I  can  prove it  simply  enough,"  Marcellon offered,  standing
 placidly. "Your majesty?" At the King's nod, the High Mage reached out
 and  took  the  document.  Silence  covered  the  Court  as  Marcellon
 whispered a  spell. The document  glowed. Marcellon smiled.  "As Baron
 Connall conjectured, your majesty, a forgery."
      "Of course  you would  say that!" Coranabo  shouted. "He  is your
 daughter's  husband, and  you are  defending  him! We  grieve for  the
 effect his crimes must be having on you, but you must not--"
      "I  am  willing  to  accept  the  High  Mage's  word,"  the  King
 interrupted quietly but very firmly. "Lord Marcellon does not lie."
      "What of the merchant's  testimony?" Coranabo pressed urgenty. He
 was turning a purple shade of red.
      "He could  be lying," Luthias  argued quickly. "I suspect  he is.
 He's a greedy snake, waiting to strike. And the merchants would profit
 by a war with  Bichu. That's why Lek Pyle hired  the assassins to kill
 my father and my brother."
      "They were hired to kill you,  boy, and your cousin, and had they
 not bungled  the affair we wouldn't  be in this tangle  now!" Coranabo
 screamed.
      The court gasped collectively. "What mean you, that the assassins
 were  to  kill Baron  Connall  and  Duke  Dargon?" the  King  demanded
 ominously.
      "That's  nothing, your  majesty," Luthias  remarked, moving  with
 confidence and strength toward the Baron of Coranabo. "It was revealed
 in Lek Pyle's trial that the assassins were to have killed the Duke of
 Dargon  and  me.  However,"  Luthias  concluded,  standing  menacingly
 directly before Coranabo, "I would like  to know what he means by this
 'tangle.'"
      "It was a  slip of the tongue, nothing,"  Baron Coranabo supplied
 quickly.
      "I have this feeling that you are not telling the truth," Luthias
 answered him. If  Roisart were here, he would  have figured everything
 out by now. As it was, Luthias  didn't think he was doing so badly. He
 thought he was beginning to see.
      "I  have  the  same  feeling," Marcellon  agreed,  standing  with
 unhurried grace. "I can read your mind, Coranabo."
      "You lie!" Coranabo accused.
      "I do not  lie," Marcellon returned. The High  Mage turned toward
 his  King. "With  your permission,  your majesty,  I will  ensure that
 Baron Coranabo does not lie, either."
      Gravely, King  Haralan nodded  his approval. Coranabo  leapt over
 his table,  tried to run,  but Luthias  caught him easily,  looped his
 arms below Coranabo's  armpits, and locked his hands  behind his head.
 Then  he lifted  the  Baron of  Coranabo five  inches  off the  floor.
 "Proceed, High Mage," Luthias invited, smiling grimly.
      "I do not lie!" Coranabo protested.
      Clifton Dargon stood. "Then why did you run?"
      "Be  seated, Lord  Dargon," the  King commanded.  "Be seated,  my
 lords and  ladies." Everyone  except Luthias, Coranabo,  and Marcellon
 sat. "Lord Marcellon?"
      The High Mage closed his eyes  and murmured a chant. Luthias felt
 static electricity in  his hair. Marcellon opened his  eyes and looked
 directly  at the  Baron of  Coranabo. "Now  tell His  Majesty and  the
 Court," Marcellon ordered, "of  your involvement with this Beinisonian
 plot."
      Coranabo opened his mouth, but closed  it suddenly, as if he felt
 that he now could not lie, and looked away.
1     "I advise you to answer," the King ordered quietly. "The Baron of
 Connall looks to the strength and  leverage to break your back. If you
 are, indeed, involved with the plot  against his brother and father, I
 am sure I will have no problem convincing him to do it."
      Luthias grinned the smile of  an anticipating assassin. "Oh, yes,
 your majesty, you would. It is too quick." He looked at Coranabo. "Did
 you have my  father and brother killed?" When  Coranabo didn't answer,
 Luthias shook him ungently. "Did you?"
      "Your father--yes.  Your brother was  to have lived when  you and
 Dargon died. He would have become Duke. We could have trapped him into
 war," Coranabo spat defiantly. "I would have married Danza to him, and
 when the Beinisonians came in, I would have taken, by right of age and
 family, the Duchy of Dargon."
      "You pretentious--"  Luthias hissed.  "That is  why you  tried to
 marry Danza to me!"
      "What of this treason trial?" the King inquired calmly.
      "We had  to get rid of  Duke Dargon. He advised  too much against
 the war  with Bichu.  We chanced  that we  could have  convinced Baron
 Connall." Luthias wanted to squeeze his neck.
      "And Castellan Michiya?"
      "A tool,"  Coranabo answered  defiantly. "Just to  accomplish our
 plot."
      "Who," the King demanded, "is 'we?'"
      "I and the Beinisonians."
      Luthias growled. "You  see, your majesty, I was  right. They were
 planning to invade. They were trying  to advise your majesty to invade
 Bichu,  so that  they could  easily take  the country."  The Baron  of
 Connall jostled Coranabo again. "Am I right?"
      Coranabo was  silent for a  few more jostlings. "You  are right!"
 Coranabo screamed finally. The Court  gasped. "And you would have been
 mine, you would have married Danza had it not been for that whore of a
 seneschal of yours--"
      Abruptly, Luthias  thrust the  Baron of  Coranabo from  his hold.
 Coranabo landed hard  on the stone steps of the  King's dais. The King
 motioned the  guards forward, but  they did  not take him.  Their eyes
 were instead on the Baron of Connall.
      Luthias had  never burned  with such white  rage. His  hands were
 clenched so tightly that Marcellon  feared for the bones, and Clifton,
 for the first time in his life, realized just how dangerous and deadly
 his cousin was.  Flames raged behind the Baron of  Connall's eyes, and
 when he spoke, his words were furious and rough. "You had better thank
 God that you and I are in  the presence of the King!" Luthias shouted.
 "You would have paid dearly for that insult otherwise!"
      Coranabo laughed  malevolently. "I kill your  father and brother,
 and nearly  succeed in killing  your cousin  and your friend,  and you
 worry over an insult!"
      "The King's justice  will take care of the  others," Luthias spat
 at him, his words  hard and sharp as steel swords.  "But that you dare
 to call  a lady in my  protection, my ward, my  seneschal--" my Sable!
 "You would have paid dearly."
      Coranabo laughed disdainfully.
      "Take him,"  the King commanded  the guards. Swiftly,  the guards
 laid hold of the Baron and presented  him to his King. "You are guilty
 of treason," King Haralan pronounced  gravely and clearly, so that all
 the Court could hear.  "It is our duty as King  to serve justice." The
 King's face softened, and he smiled at the young Baron of Connall. "It
 would seem to us that the  most just of punishments for you, Coranabo,
 would be  to turn you over  to the Baron of  Connall." Luthias flashed
 the King a wicked, grateful grin.  "However, it would hardly serve the
 law. We therefore strip you of your lands and sentence you to death."
1     Luthias  paled,  thinking  of  tiny  Danza  Coranabo  and  Tylane
 Shipbrook. "Your majesty, please wait,"  Luthias called out. The King,
 puzzled, looked at him. "His death I don't dispute," Luthias explained
 quickly.  "He  deserves  that  surely." The  young  Baron  of  Connall
 frowned. "He  deserves it many times  over. But his daughters  are not
 guilty of any  crime. Don't take their dowry from  them, your majesty.
 They do not deserve any punishment."
      His royal majesty the King  raised his eyebrows at the precocious
 Baron. "You speak  wisely, Baron Connall. Bring us a  map," he ordered
 an assistant. The servant promptly brought the King a map of the Duchy
 of Dargon.  "You own the  strip south  of the Coldwell,"  King Haralan
 remarked to the prisoner. "We will divide your land in half," the King
 determined.  He took  a  pen and  drew  a line  along  the river  that
 separated Coranabo  into two  parts. Then, he  crossed out  the border
 between Connall and  the southern half of Coranabo's  barony. He stood
 straight and faced the Court. "I now pronounce that the Duke of Dargon
 and the Castellan Ittosai Michiya are innocent of all charges and free
 of the Court."
      Luthias closed  his eyes, and  his shoulders relaxed.  He smiled,
 and put  his head on  his hands tiredly. Free.  He had freed  them. He
 felt weak with relief and shaky with joy.
      Across   the  aisle,   Ittosai   Michiya  was   smiling  at   the
 announcement.  Clifton  laughed like  a  boy.  Marcellon sat,  looking
 satisfied.
      The King turned  angrily to the Baron of  Coranabo. "We pronounce
 you guilty of  treason, Coranabo. You are stripped of  your title, and
 of your lands south of the  Coldwell. You are sentenced to death." The
 King looked at the guards. "Release your hold, but do not allow him to
 escape. Baron Connall, come forward."
      Slowly,  Luthias   obeyed  and  knelt.  Haralan   looked  at  him
 benevolently. "We forced you to try this case," the King revealed. "We
 wanted to test you. You have surpassed the test, Lord Connall, and you
 have shown wisdom and control beyond  your years." The King raised his
 eyes to  behold the entire Court.  "In years past, our  ancestors were
 wont to  give the  title of Count  to those who  served them  well and
 loyally." King  Haralan unsheathed the  decorative sword that  hung at
 his side and touched each of Luthias' shoulders with it. "We pronounce
 you now, Luthias  of Connall, in reward for your  loyalty and service,
 Count of Connall,  with the lands of your ancestors  and those we have
 taken from Coranabo to support that title."
      Shaking, Luthias stared at the  King with weak astonishment. Him,
 a Count? But  the title Count was  given only to those  who had served
 the King in the highest manner. It was so rare--the last of the Counts
 had died two  hundred years ago! And he had  done nothing outstanding.
 He had only done what any man would have.
      "Rise,  Count  Connall,"  the  King  ordered.  His  legs  feeling
 rubbery, Luthias did so. "Because of  your wisdom, we also appoint you
 a our ambassador  to Beinison, to reject their  proposal and represent
 us in the Beinisonian Court." King  Haralan then spoke directly to the
 new  Count. "It  is  rare to  find  a  man who  so  trusts the  King's
 justice," Haralan remarked. "We will serve all Coranabo's other crimes
 by severing his head. We give  you leave, Count Connall, to avenge the
 insult to your ward."
      Luthias smiled calmly and bowed his gratitude to King Haralan. He
 turned toward Coranabo.
      Sir Edward suddenly spoke  softly. "Remember, Count Connall, that
 you may not draw a sword in the presence of your King."
      Luthias smiled at the Knight Commander.  "I do not need one, your
 Excellency," the Count of Connall  stated placidly, and without taking
 his eyes  off of Edward Sothos,  Luthias slammed the back  of his hand
1against Coranabo's  jaw. His jaw  snapped loudly, and he  flew fifteen
 feet into the waiting arms of the King's guards.
      "Thank  you, your  majesty," Luthias  said,  and he  went to  his
 cousin and his friend.

      Giddy with happiness, the new  Count of Connall was drinking that
 evening at  the feast. His cousin,  the Duke of Dargon,  was laughing,
 happy  that it  was  over. Messengers  had already  been  sent to  the
 Duchess of Dargon, and to Myrande. Everything was finally all right.
      Sir  Edward watched  Count  Luthias  with the  eyes  of an  older
 brother. Perhaps young Luthias could  actually get some sleep tonight.
 And then,  by pronouncement of the  King, Luthias would return  to his
 home and  quickly leave it  for Cabildo,  the capital of  the Beinison
 Empire.
      "You did  it, Luthias-sama,"  Ittosai Michiya  said to  his lord.
 Michiya was grinning, ecstatic at his release, and at his appointment.
 The King  of Baranur had  honored Luthias'  castellan by making  him a
 royal emissary to Bichu. "And now, I may go home."
      "Yes,  but you  have to  take  that idiot  Chronicler with  you,"
 Luthias pointed  out jokingly. The  King had mandated that  Rish Vogel
 accompany the  Ambassador to Bichu.  Ittosai Michiya rolled  his eyes.
 "You will come back?"
      "In the spring, when you return from Beinison," Michiya promised.
 "We will compete  in the Melrin tournament, and perhaps,  this time, I
 will  not  allow you  to  win."  Luthias  grinned  and pushed  on  the
 Bichurian's arm.
      "Maybe I'll give  you both baldrics and save us  all the hassle,"
 Clifton muttered good-naturedly. "You two are the best we've got."
      "The father  speaks," Luthias mused, his  smile lop-sided. "Watch
 Lauren give  birth to  seven full-grown Knights.  Dargon will  be well
 protected." Luthias became serious. "Clifton, will you be regent of my
 lands while I'm away?"
      "Of course."  The Duke of  Dargon looked into his  cousin's eyes.
 "What do you plan to do about Myrande?"
      "I'm giving her a choice," Luthias announced. "Either she marries
 the man she loves or--"
      "Good evening,  gentlemen," came  an even  greeting. The  Duke of
 Dargon, his cousin, and Ittosai  Michiya stood as the King approached.
 He was  accompanied by  the High  Mage and  the Knight  Commander. The
 three man  bowed to the monarch.  "I see you are  enjoying yourselves.
 You look much better, Count Connall; I am glad."
      "Thank you, your majesty," Luthias returned, bowing again.
      "You have told me, Lord Ittosai, that you will enjoy returning to
 Bichu," the King prompted.
      "Indeed, your majesty," Michiya  replied, bowing and grinning. "I
 can now return to my family with immunity."
      "And how do you like your reward, lord Count?"
      Luthias appeared to  think about it, although there  was no need.
 "I never wanted it, your majesty. I  never wanted to be Baron or Count
 or Ambassador. I only wanted to be a Knight."
      King Haralan laughed.  "So does my elder son, Kalien;  yet he too
 must bear  a title. Sir Edward  assures me, however, that  you will be
 Knighted eventually." The King came forward and put a hand on Luthias'
 shoulder. "I must confess, Luthias, that the reward I gave you is more
 to my  benefit than yours."  The Count of  Connall gave him  a serious
 look. "You receive the land, certainly, and you will become one of the
 richest men in your Duchy, if you aren't already. But the title Count:
 it  isn't that  you don't  deserve it,  but I  cannot send  Beinison a
 nobleman of  less rank  than the  one they  sent to  Baranur." Luthias
 nodded his  understanding. It  was a wise  move. "And,  Count Connall,
1your skill in war will make you  useful to me there." Again, the Count
 Connall nodded. "Your knowledge and your  control will make you a good
 ambassador, Count Connall."
      "He  will make  you  proud,  your majesty,"  the  Duke of  Dargon
 assured his King. "He has always made his lords proud."
      Luthias smiled gratefully at his  cousin, then turned back to the
 King, who  had not removed  his hand  from Luthias' shoulder.  "As the
 rewards are as much to your benefit as mine, Luthias, is there nothing
 your King can give  you that would be to your  benefit alone? Is there
 something, besides the Knighthood that you must earn, that you want?"
      Luthias gazed  at the floor and  sadly shook his head.  "No, your
 majesty. What I want you cannot give me."
      Haralan raised his eyebrows. "Ask. As  King I have quite a bit of
 power."
      "You cannot  give me the  lives of  my father and  twin," Luthias
 stated flatly.
      "That  is   a  bit  difficult,"  Haralan   admitted  with  amused
 ruefulness, "even for a King."
      "That  is a  bit  difficult  even for  a  mage," Edward  remarked
 cheerfully.
      "Difficult for a mage?"  laughed Marcellon. "That's difficult for
 a god!"
      "What  else would  you want?"  the King  pressed. "There  must be
 something."
      "I want  to go home," Luthias  sighed, "but you cannot  let me do
 that; you need me in Beinison." Luthias took a heavy breath. "The only
 other thing I want is for Sable to be happy."
      The King appeared confused. "Forgive me; who is Sable?"
      "My ward, Lady Myrande."
      "Ah,  the seneschal  whom  Coranabo maligned  so blithely,"  King
 Haralan said. "And to make her happy is beyond my power?"
      "Yes, your majesty," Luthias affirmed.  "I cannot tell you how to
 do it. She loves someone who doesn't love her."
      The King  appeared grim. "I  think," Ittosai Michiya  ventured, a
 knowing smile on his visage, "that I could tell you how."
      "Yes, your majesty," Clifton added. The Duke of Dargon apparently
 shared insight. "I know how."
      "Well, then, my lords," the King began, "if--"
      A rough pull  tugged Luthias' face away from the  King. A frantic
 Tylane Shipbrook  stood there.  "Luthias!" he  cried. "Thank  God I've
 found you!"
      The Count  of Connall gripped  Tylane's shoulders. "What  is it?"
 Luthias inquired, the worry he had felt previously returning. Tylane's
 eyes were as pained as before. "What is it? What's happened?"
      "My  father's got  Myrande," Tylane  began. "He  took her  and is
 going to marry her to Oleran on the twenty-fourth."
      All the  blood seemed  to disappear  from Luthias'  face. Luthias
 felt his chest go numb, and he  stared like a madman at his friend. He
 shook  Tylane's shoulder  in panic  and frustration.  "How? I  had her
 guarded-- My God, they'll kill her!" Sable! What would they do to her?
 If they-- Daydreams  of rape, torture, and pain  filled Luthias' mind.
 Wildly, he tried to put her away and listen.
      "Father drugged her and took her with guards. I doubt your archer
 Macdougalls even knew there was anything wrong."
      Luthias face was ashen, and his eyes were wild. Voices seemed far
 away and unreal--my  God, Sable!--but the shoulders  were warm. Again,
 he shook Tylane. "Drugged her? Then he'll drug her again! She'll marry
 Oleran and he'll--My God--!" Sable! And  I am supposed to protect her!
 Sable!
      "No, she's not eating," Tylane explained.
1     "Not  eating?" Luthias'  voice  rose  to a  squeak.  A vision  of
 beautiful Sable,  ravaged by hunger  till she  was little more  than a
 skeleton  covered with  skin,  flashed before  his  eyes. He  released
 Tylane and shot a frantic hand  through his hair. "Not eating? My God,
 she'll starve before I can get her--she'll die--" My God, Sable dead!
      "No--Warin's sneaking her food," Tylane explained. "But--"
      Luthias had turned to Clifton  and gripped his cousin's shoulders
 desperately. "We've got to go get her, Clifton!"
      "I know,  I know,"  Clifton attempted  to soothe  Luthias. "We're
 leaving in the morning."
      "No,  now!" Luthias  demanded. "God  knows what  they--Oleran--my
 God!" he finished, his oath powerful. "My God-- Michiya," he turned to
 his castellan.
      "I will help you," Ittosai vowed. "If they have harmed her--"
      "Harmed her?" Luthias repeated  with incredulous anger. The Count
 Connall's face became a fiery mask of fury. His voice became rough and
 ferocious. "If they hurt her," he began, seething, "if they even touch
 her, I'll kill them!"
      "So  you  *are*   in  love  with  her,"   Edward's  soft  chuckle
 interrupted the Count's tirade. Luthias turned to the Knight Commander
 and stared in panicked astonishment. "I had thought so, but--"
      "Of course I'm in love with  her!" Luthias shouted. "Do you think
 I'd be--"  As if  he had  been slapped,  Luthias abruptly  stopped and
 blinked. He turned slowly to Clifton  and Ittosai Michiya. "Did I just
 say," Luthias asked deliberately, "what I think I just said?"
      Ittosai's grin was completely unmerciful. "Yes," he answered with
 simplicity and triumph.
      "And it's high time, too, manling," Clifton growled.
      "I've got  to go  get her,"  Luthias was  mumbling. "I  can't let
 them--"
      "I can give you her hand," the King offered.
      "Your majesty, I'm  her guardian," Luthias reminded  the King. "I
 don't  need you  to give  me  that. But  you  can give  me this,  your
 majesty: allow me to leave immediately."
      "Go pack your  things," the King granted, and  Luthias dashed off
 with dragging Ittosai Michiya in much the same way he would have taken
 Roisart. "Duke Dargon, come with me."

      Just as the ship was docking to take Luthias back to the Duchy of
 Dargon, the King summoned the new Count to a private audience. Luthias
 wanted to tear his hair in frustration  at the delay, but he went, his
 walk quick and frantic.
      The  King sat  in his  private chambers  in a  comfortable chair.
 Opposite him  sat the  High Mage  and the Duke  of Dargon.  The Knight
 Commander stood  nearby. Luthias bowed breathlessly  and hastily. "You
 are ready to leave then, Count Connall?"
      "As  soon as  I can  collect my  cousin, Lord  Ittosai, and  Rish
 Vogel," Luthias  confirmed, his  voice as hurried  and breathy  as his
 movements. "I ask your majesty that you allow the High Mage to come as
 well." The King raised his eyebrows. "He is a physician; they may have
 hurt her."  And Luthias grimaced.  He hated thinking about  that. What
 they could have done to her in all this time...
      "I have searched for her  in my crystal," Marcellon told Luthias.
 "She is in a tower, but she is unhurt."
      "Still--" Luthias began.
      "I have  no objection,  Marcellon," the King  cut the  Count off.
 "Go; it  will give  the Count  some peace  of mind,  and the  Baron of
 Shipbrook  and the  Baron of  Oleran  may indeed  hurt Lady  Myrande."
 Marcellon  smiled  and  assented  with  a  nod.  "Now,"  King  Haralan
 continued, returning his attention to the anxious Count, "to business.
1I have  given your cousin the  Duke authority in this  matter. If your
 ward is unhurt, the Barons of Oleran and Shipbrook are to be sent here
 to  the Keep.  If they  have harmed  her in  any way,  they are  to be
 executed. I will not tolerate this sort of behavior in my Kingdom."
      Luthias  nodded and  wished with  all his  might that  King would
 hurry. The more time they wasted--!
      The King smiled at him. The King seemed to be full of smiles, and
 Luthias wished to  leave. They had to get Sable!  "You love this young
 woman, do  you not?" To  expedite matters, Luthias nodded  once. "Will
 you marry her?"
      "Yes,  your  majesty,"   Luthias  answered  confidently.  Clifton
 grinned.  Luthias followed  suit. "Perhaps  even if  she refuses  me."
 Clifton laughed loudly at the idea.
      "Very well. Take this." King Haralan offered the Count a piece of
 parchment. "You asked me to gain Lady Myrande's happiness. The Duke of
 Dargon has explained to me how this  lady loves a man, unknown to him.
 Ask her to marry you, Count Connall.  And if she refuses you, give her
 this paper. It  will, I hope, insure the happiness  you seek for her."
 Luthias  took the  parchment but  gave the  King a  puzzled look.  "It
 orders that she marries the man she loves."
      "But I don't know who--"
      "It's all right, manling," Clifton assured him. "I know."
      "Now,  if  you  give  me leave,  your  majesty--"  Luthias  began
 hastily.
      The King laughed. "I hope that  you will allow this your bride to
 come to  the War Council  I have called. Duke  Dargon, see if  you can
 bring her.  She must be  quite a  lady to have  caused this much  of a
 panic."
      Clifton laughed,  and Edward confirmed, "A  veritable Alana, your
 majesty."
      "Alana?" laughed the King.
      "What better  consort for the war-god?"  chuckled Marcellon. "She
 is Alana indeed."
      "Have  you  gotten her  the  moon-jewel,  then?" the  King  asked
 Luthias, his blue eyes twinkling.
      "Moon-jewel?" Luthias questioned. "What are you talking about?"
      "It's this legend," Clifton explained. "You see, the war-god--"
      "A legend?  You sit here telling  me stories, and Sable  could by
 dying!"
      "Get him out of here, Dargon,"  the King laughed. "God speed you.
 Marcellon, take care  of them. And, Count Connall,"  Luthias, half out
 the door, turned. "I can give you  two weeks once you reach Dargon. No
 more. A fortnight after  you reach Dargon, I want you  on a ship bound
 for Cabildo."
      "Yes, your majesty," Luthias assented, and he raced to the ship.
 ------------------------------------------------------------------------
1                         Trial by Fire
                             Part V
                      Knight in Shining Armor
                       by M. Wendy Hennequin
                  (b.c.k.a. HENNEQUI_WEM@CTSTATEU)

      "We'll reach Shipbrook Harbor an hour after dusk," Clifton Dargon
 informed his cousin as he approached.  Luthias was leaning on the side
 of the ship, staring at the ocean. "It should only take a half an hour
 or so to reach Shipbrook's keep from there."
      "The sooner the better," his  cousin replied, not taking his eyes
 from the calm, vibrant water. "It's been too long already."
      "Can't make the wind blow any faster, manling," Clifton remarked,
 leaning on the edge of the ship with his cousin.
      "Don't  be  flip, Clifton.  She  may  be dead  already,"  Luthias
 snapped. Angrily, he threw  a bit of wood at the  water. "When I think
 of what Oleran and Shipbrook must have done to her--"
      "Easy, manling,"  the Duke of  Dargon soothed, placing a  hand on
 Luthias' shoulder. "If she were in that much danger, Lauren would have
 sensed it  and let Marcellon know  by now. Besides, Tylane  said Warin
 was looking out for her."
      "Well, knowing Shipbrook,  Warin's been kicked out  of the estate
 by now, and Sable--"
      "It'll all be well," Clifton  assured him. "Don't worry, Luthias.
 We'll take care of it. And if they've hurt Sable--" The Duke of Dargon
 grimaced; he didn't relish the thought of Myrande's being hurt. He had
 grown up  with her, and he  cared for her  as if she were  his sister.
 "Then we'll do as the King says and execute the pair of them."
      "Won't bring her back," the Count of Connall pointed out, tossing
 another bit of wood at the silent waters. "Didn't bring Roisart back."
      "Don't worry," Clifton repeated. "We'll be in Shipbrook within an
 hour and a half.  I've sent messengers to Lauren, and  she and some of
 my forces will  meet us there. We'll get Sable  and you married within
 the week." Luthias allowed himself to smile a little.
      The Count  of Connall  was silent  for a  moment. "I  still can't
 believe it."
      "Believe what?"
      "That I'm  in love with  her." Luthias appeared puzzled.  "I know
 that I'm in love with her, but  I don't believe it." He shook his head
 against the thought. "I don't feel any different about her than I ever
 did, than I did last week, last month, or before my father and Roisart
 died. It's--strange."
      Clifton laughed  merrily. "Come on, Luthias,"  he choked, "you've
 been in  love with  her for  years! Of  course what  you feel  for her
 hasn't changed. You just finally found the right word for it." Luthias
 gave his cousin  a sobering look. "Why are you  so surprised about it,
 anyway? Myrande is very special; she's..."
      "A  consort   for  the  war-god,"  Luthias   finished,  repeating
 Marcellon's words. He finally looked at his cousin the Duke. "What was
 that legend you and the King were talking about?"
      "Legend?"
      "Something about a moon-jewel."
      "Oh, that," Clifton chuckled. "It's about the war-god Gow and the
 night-goddess Alana.  They used to  be worshipped here--still  are, in
 some parts of  Baranur, and in most of the  Beinison Empire." The Duke
 turned toward  his cousin and  lounged against  the side of  the ship.
 "The war-god fell  in love with the night-goddess, and  to woo her, he
 slew this  terrible monster,  and brought  the night-goddess  back the
 treasure: the moon, as a jewel to wear around her neck, and the stars,
 as a mantle for her hair."
1     "Moon-jewel," Luthias  repeated, slightly contemptuous.  He flung
 another piece of wood into the water. "I probably won't even have time
 to get her a betrothal ring."
      Clifton  smiled.  "It  won't   matter  to  Myrande;  believe  me,
 Luthias." Luthias gazed  seriously at his cousin.  "Come on, manling,"
 the Duke  invited, putting  his arm  around Luthias'  tired shoulders,
 "we've got a damsel to rescue."
      Luthias smiled  slightly, tossed  the last bit  of wood  into the
 river, and followed his cousin to their cabin below.

      Myrande opened  her eyes as  Warin Shipbrook entered her  room at
 the top of the highest tower  in Shipbrook Keep. She had been sleeping
 much lately.  She had never been  so lazy--or sleepy--in her  life. It
 came of having only  one meal a day, the one  Warin brought her before
 dawn each  morning. She sat  as her  cousin approached, reached  for a
 brush, and began to stroke her hair with it.
      "I didn't mean  to wake you," Warin apologized  as he approached.
 Myrande smiled him serenely; the nap  had done her good. "Father wants
 you to prepare for the wedding." He looked away, then abruptly set the
 goblet he had brought on the table. "Here is some wine."
      "Did your father send it?" Myrande asked, struggling with a snarl
 in her dark locks.
      "I  wouldn't  have   brought  it  if  he   did,"  Warin  answered
 scornfully. He  stared at his  cousin's ebony  eyes. "I don't  know if
 you're thirsty, but you may want it anyway."
      The snag in  her hair finally loosed itself.  Myrande resumed the
 rhythmic brushing.  "Why?" she asked.  "I don't  want to be  drunk for
 this, Warin."
      "You want  to have your  wits about  you when you  marry Oleran?"
 Warin wondered.
      "Yes.  In the  ceremony, I  am asked  to accept  the bridegroom,"
 Myrande explained patiently. "If I don't accept Oleran, there's no way
 I can be married to him."
      "This  won't make  you drunk,"  Warin rushed.  "It will  make you
 dead."
      Myrande  stared at  him, shocked.  "You want  me to  kill myself?
 You've been risking your inheritance for weeks to keep me alive!"
      "I thought Luthias  would have come by now,"  Warin retorted. "It
 seems he has more important things to do."
      "Luthias does what  he has to," Myrande retorted,  her black eyes
 snapping at the insult.  "If he could be here, he  would be here." She
 tossed her head proudly. "He will come to get me as soon as he can."
      "Well, he isn't  here, and I think he'd rather  see you dead than
 married to that monster Oleran."
      "Maybe  so," Myrande  returned calmly,  still brushing  her hair.
 "And, barring no  other solution, I would rather be  dead than married
 to a man who will beat me and rape me." Myrande rose, set the brush on
 a table, and  faced Warin. "But I won't kill  myself. Luthias has lost
 too many people already. The Duke of Dargon and Ittosai Michiya may be
 dead by now. I'll be the only person he has left."
      "Your life will be hell," Warin warned her seriously. "You should
 see what Oleran does to the horses and the servants!"
      "Better my life is hell  than Luthias'," Myrande said firmly. She
 went to the mirror,  picked up the brush again, and  began to pile her
 hair on  the back of  her head.  "Luthias will overturn  the marriage,
 assuming  I can  somehow  be  tricked into  accepting  Oleran. If  I'm
 dead--" Myrande remembered how Luthias  had been when Roisart died. If
 she were dead, would  he then love her? There was no  way to know, and
 no way she  would leave Luthias. She had promised,  on that night when
 he had kissed her  and she had pushed him away,  that she would always
1be there for him. Married or single, she would be.
      "Take it away,  and let me dress," Myrande  ordered Warin gently.
 Stiffly, Warin bowed and took the wine away. As the door shut, Myrande
 slipped the chop sticks into her hair.

      Alarm  bells  were  clattering  as  Luthias,  Count  of  Connall,
 Clifton, Duke of Dargon, the  High Mage Marcellon, and Ittosai Michiya
 arrived  on horseback  at Shipbrook  Keep. Luthias  was armed,  as was
 Michiya; the Duke had said that he  didn't expect a fight, but the two
 warriors thought  it best to be  prepared. Michiya had even  brought a
 crossbow.
      Luthias and Michiya were different  than the other men. Marcellon
 was serene,  if somewhat amused;  Clifton seemed grim but  placid. The
 men-at-arms that  had come from Dargon  were grim, as was  their Duke,
 but  they were  somewhat jovial  about it,  as if  the rescue  of Lady
 Myrande Shipbrook were  nothing but an excuse to celebrate  at a later
 time. But Luthias was insanely  worried and furiously angry and deeply
 frightened. Ittosai  was also worried  and as hell-bent as  Luthias on
 revenge if  Myrande had been  hurt. Riding to Shipbrook  Keep, Luthias
 had idly wondered  aloud, a bent smile  on his face, "Are  you in love
 with her too, Michiya?"
      Ittosai looked away,  as if the matter were beneath  him. "Do not
 be silly."
      Then  they arrived,  and the  warning bells  clanged to  announce
 them. Frightened  guards of  Shipbrook Keep saw  the force  coming and
 hastily shut  the main  gate. "Surround  the walls,"  Clifton ordered.
 "Leave the  largest detachment here at  the gates with myself  and the
 Count of  Connall." The  Duke of  Dargon turned  to his  cousin. "Here
 goes, manling."
      "Hurry it up,  Clifton," Luthias snapped. "They  were supposed to
 marry her to Oleran today! If the beast has touched her--"
      "Easy, Luthias,"  Marcellon ordered  with stern  equanimity. "All
 will be well."
      "Who comes?" bellowed a man from the top of the walls.
      "The Duke of Dargon," Clifton  shouted his answer, "and the Count
 of Connall.  I demand  to speak  with the Baron  of Shipbrook  and the
 Baron of Oleran!"
      "I will fetch them, your grace," the man promised.
      "Hurry!" Luthias screamed at him.
      "We could break  the gates," Michiya was suggesting.  "Do we have
 a...how do you say it?...a battering tree?"
      "Ram," Luthias corrected. "It would  work, but we'd have to fight
 our way through."
      "I am not afraid," the Bichurian said.
      "Nor I," Luthias  assured him, "but it wouldn't  be practical. It
 would take too much time to find  Sable. By that time, they'd have her
 out of the castle."
      "True," Michiya agreed.
      "Why do you come, Duke Dargon?" Shipbrook's voice echoed from the
 walls. He  appeared as a shadow  above the gate. Two  other shadows, a
 slight  one and  a  heavier  one, stood  with  him.  Next to  Clifton,
 Marcellon murmured a spell, and a great  light shone on the top of the
 walls.  Shipbrook,  Warin,  and--Luthias assumed--the  muscular  Baron
 Oleran,  shielded their  eyes.  "You  are not  invited  to my  niece's
 wedding."
      Luthias was about to shout something defiant, but Clifton held up
 his hand.  "Quiet, and let  me handle this."  The Duke focused  on the
 Baron of Shipbrook. "Open your gates and allow us to take Lady Myrande
 away."
      "I have a right to marry  my nice to Oleran," Shipbrook returned.
1"I am her kinsman--"
      "I advise  you not to  resist," Dargon shouted angrily.  He waved
 the sealed parchment  that Haralan had given him. "I  have orders from
 the King for your arrest and Oleran's."
      "On what charge?" Shipbrook asked pompously.
      "Kidnaping, for  one," Luthias  shouted. He stared  at Shipbrook,
 his  eyes burning.  Suddenly, he  realized that  Oleran was  no longer
 there.
      "If you  resist," Clifton continued,  "you will be put  to death.
 Allow us entrance!"
      "Never!"
      "I am quite serious, Shipbrook," Clifton emphasized. "I will have
 you put to death if you do not allow us entrance peacefully."
      "You cannot enter by force," Shipbrook challenged.
      "Would you like to see us do it?" Luthias countered. "You have my
 ward, Shipbrook; you have no claim on her. If you do not return her to
 me, I am quite prepared to take her from you."
      "You  have  no  right  to  trespass  on  my  grounds,"  Shipbrook
 returned,  his voice  veiling  a  warning that  scared  no one.  "I--"
 Suddenly, he turned to Warin and shoved him away. "Let them in? You're
 no son  of mine! Get  away from me!" Warin  stood still for  a moment,
 then walked away, anger evident in  his step. Shipbrook turned back to
 his unexpected guests. "You may also leave."
      "You defy the King's justice?" Clifton asked haughtily.
      "I'll defy anything opposed to my family's honor!"
      "Fool,"  Clifton muttered  to  his father-in-law.  He shouted  to
 Shipbrook, "We  will force  ourselves in, then."  Again, he  turned to
 Marcellon. "Can you open the gates?"
      "Line up the  men," Marcellon commanded, "and give  me room. I'll
 take care of it."
      The men-at-arms shifted back and  drew their weapons. Luthias and
 Ittosai  dismounted  and placed  themselves  at  the very  front  with
 Clifton.  Michiya loaded  and cocked  his crossbow;  Luthias drew  his
 sword. In front of the soldiers, Marcellon raised his arms.
      The  doors  slowly opened,  as  if  affected  by the  spell  that
 Marcellon was about to cast.
      Puzzled, Marcellon lowered  his arms slowly. "Even I  am not that
 good,"  he muttered.  He turned  to Clifton  and his  army. "They  are
 letting us in!"
      Without further words, Luthias sprinted into the gates. Warin was
 waiting with  the gate key.  "You opened  it?" Clifton asked,  not far
 behind his cousin.
      Warin gave the  key to the Duke. "He is  a fool," young Shipbrook
 admitted, "but I  have no wish to  see him dead. He is,  after all, my
 father."
      Luthias snatched Warin's arms roughly. "Where's Sable?"
      "In the tower,"  Warin explained swiftly, casting  a hurried look
 over his shoulder at five of Shipbrook Keep's towers.
      Furious  at the  ambiguity, Luthias  shook him.  "Which one?"  he
 hollered. "Where is she?"
      "The  center one!"  Luthias  released him  abruptly and  sprinted
 toward the  high, center tower  which bordered on the  courtyard which
 the Ducal forces  were quickly filling. Michiya rushed  with his lord,
 and Warin hurried to follow.
      "The highest room!" Warin shouted as Luthias threw open the door.
 Without even acknowledging the direction,  Luthias began to fly up the
 stairs, taking them two  or three at a time. It  was too important not
 to waste any time. Those  monsters-- Slightly less frantic as Luthias,
 Michiya followed slightly more slowly; his legs were shorter than tall
 Luthias'.  Warin,  who   was  in  poorer  shape   than  the  warriors,
1accompanied them as best he could.
      Luthias was  bolting, the wind in  his ears. He didn't  truly see
 where he was going.  All he knew was that he was  going to the highest
 room. Sable would be there. The young Count strained to hear the sound
 of Myrande's  voice. Was she  dead? What if  she were hurt?  Where was
 Oleran? Oh, God, if she is hurt--if they have--Sable!
      Luthias collided with  the door. It was bolted  from the outside,
 and it had a  heavy lock on it. With a bestial  cry, Luthias threw the
 bolt off the door  and tried to open it. Locked.  The Count of Connall
 grimaced briefly, then threw his  shoulder against the door. It didn't
 budge. He battered it again, feeling no pain in his shoulder. The door
 remained solid and  unmoved. Well, damn it, he'd break  the thing into
 splinters  before  he  allowed  them to  hurt  Sable!  With  obstinate
 determination, Luthias threw himself against the door. It better move!
      "Luthias-sama!" Michiya's voice called him. It didn't register in
 Luthias' ears. He  assaulted the stubborn door  again. Ittosai grabbed
 the Count's arms. "What are you doing?"
      "I'm breaking  the God-damned door down!"  Luthias screamed. "Get
 out of my way!"
      "It is too slow," the  Bichurian complained. "Stand aside; I know
 a better way."
      Luthias, blind  with fury  and purpose,  somehow managed  to move
 aside. Michiya  backed up two or  three steps on the  landing and made
 himself ready.
      "Wait!" Warin called, a dozen steps below. "I have the--"
      With a Bichanese war cry,  the Castellan of Connall raged forward
 and landed a solid, powerful kick  directly beneath the lock. The door
 flew  open.  Without  waiting,  Luthias  barreled  through  the  door,
 thinking wildly  that he  would have  to have  Michiya teach  him that
 trick. Ittosai nearly stepped on Luthias' heels in his haste to follow
 the Count.
      "Key," Warin finished weakly.
      Luthias found himself in the top  tower room, a round, stone room
 with a canopied  bed and some tables and a  fireplace. Across the room
 was a stone staircase leading to  the flat, round ceiling of the room.
 Being dragged up the staircase by an irate Oleran was--
      "Sable!" Luthias screamed, rushing  forward with his sword drawn.
 She turned and stared at him, her black eyes wide, and then she smiled
 at his very presence. Oleran saw  the grin and hit Myrande hard across
 the temple with the pommel of a very large dagger which he held in his
 free hand. Myrande  made no sound, but Luthias saw  a trickle of blood
 flow, like a tear, down her cheek.
      "Oleran,  you son  of a  bitch!" Luthias  screamed. Sword  in his
 right hand,  Luthias dashed across  the round  room to the  stairs and
 proceeded  to take  them four  at  a time.  He saw  Oleran yank  Sable
 through a  trap door,  then it slammed  shut, almost  hitting Luthias'
 head. Without thought, he pushed through  to the roof of the tower and
 rushed forward to make an end to Oleran.
      "I  suggest  that  you  stop where  you  are,  your  Excellency,"
 Oleran's urbane voice  greeted him. Luthias, for  some unknown reason,
 stopped in mid-step  and slid until he was still.  Oleran stood on the
 edge of  the roof by the  waist-high crenolations. He held  that large
 dagger's point at Myrande's breast.  "Thank you, your Excellency. I am
 sure that  neither you nor  I wish Lady  Myrande harmed. But  I assure
 you,  your Excellency,  that  I will  do  just that  if  you come  any
 closer."
      Luthias  stared  at  the  man: Oleran  was  tall,  muscular,  and
 handsome, despite the  fact that he more than twice  Luthias' age. His
 left arm held Sable's waist  securely; the right hand confidently held
 the dangerous dagger.  Uncertain of what action to  take, Luthias kept
1his body  still as his brother  Roisart's, but he did  not release the
 sword. Behind  him, the trap  door crashed  open, but Luthias  did not
 look to see who came.
      "Now, sir,"  Baron Oleran continued,  "you will make  it possible
 for me to  leave here with Lady Myrande." Luthias  opened his mouth to
 make a  scornful reply, but Oleran  added, "And I do  suggest that you
 order your  Bichanese friend to  lower his  crossbow. By the  time the
 bolt reaches me, your Excellency, Lady Myrande will be dead."
      Without turning or removing his  eyes from Oleran's, Luthias held
 out  his hand.  Luthias felt  Michiya lower  the crossbow  behind him.
 Luthias took a step closer; Oleran  pressed the point; a drop of blood
 appeared on Myrande's  blue dress. Luthias halted.  Oleran removed the
 dagger and pointed it at the Count.
      "Better, your Excellency," Oleran praised, smiling. "And now--"
      Myrande suddenly collapsed double  over Oleran's left arm. Angry,
 the  Baron slammed  his dagger's  pommel into  the back  of her  neck.
 "Stand!  What do  you think  you're doing,  woman?" the  enraged Baron
 demanded.
      Myrande appeared  to retch.  "I'm afraid  of heights,"  she cried
 pitifully,  putting her  hands  over  her dark  hair  as  if she  were
 panicked  by  the  altitude.  Nervously, she  played  with  the  piled
 tresses.
      Heights? Luthias thought wildly.
      "You will,  your Excellency," Oleran was  saying, holding Myrande
 twice as securely, "procure for us horses--"
      "Let's see who  can climb highest," an  eight-year-old girl named
 Myrande had  once challenged  the twins. She  had climbed  the tallest
 trees in Connall. Sable, afraid of heights?
      Behind Luthias, Michiya smiled.
      Fast as a whirlwind, Myrande  turned, buried one of the Bichanese
 chopsticks two inches deep in  Oleran's right side, and pushed herself
 away from  him. "You  bitch!" Oleran screamed,  raising his  dagger to
 murder her.  Luthias dove for  his ward, caught  her in his  arms, and
 twirled away,  putting himself between  Sable and the  dagger. Myrande
 screamed his name. There was a  burning in his back, and Luthias heard
 the crossbow snap with deadly finality. Oleran cried out once.
      Luthias held Sable  tight, and she clutched  him desperately. She
 was warm,  alive, all right.  Oh, God, she  was all right.  All right.
 Luthias buried his head in her loose hair and whispered, "Marry me."
      Then  he  cursed himself.  Damn  it,  he  should have  been  more
 romantic, more like Roisart, moonlight  and roses, something. He could
 have done better for her. Sable deserved better.
      But she didn't seem to mind. "When?" she whispered back.
      Luthias tried  to laugh, but it  left him as a  shaky pant. "Next
 week," he cried, "next month, tomorrow, I don't care. Soon."
      "Tonight?"
      Again, Luthias attempted laughter, but  it came out like sobs. "A
 little too soon,  Sable." He held her away from  him a little, smiled.
 She  smiled  back,  but  she  was pale  and  uncertain.  He  felt  her
 unconsciously move  her hand  up and  down on  his back.  "You deserve
 better."
      Gingerly, Michiya approached, the  crossbow empty and relaxed now
 that it had done its work. "Myrande," he began, "Luthias-sama, are you
 all right?"
      "Fine, Michiya," Luthias answered.  The Count Connall remembered,
 belatedly, that  there was an  enemy to contend with.  Luthias scanned
 the roof. "Oleran--?"
      Ittosai grinned  like a child. "I  shot him in the  neck. He went
 right over the edge. If he was not killed by the bolt--"
      Suddenly,  Myrande gasped  and jumped  backwards, putting  a hand
1over her mouth. "Sable, what's wrong?" Luthias asked. Then he felt the
 pain of  the wound  on the right  side of his  lower back.  Warm blood
 dribbled on his skin.
      Ittosai and  Myrande sprang to  look at the wound.  While Myrande
 inspected her  betrothed's injury, Michiya retrieved  the dagger which
 had  clattered to  the stones  unheard. "It  cannot be  deep," Michiya
 reported, scrutinizing the blade. "It has blood only on the edge."
      "No, it's not deep," Sable confirmed. She reached into her gown's
 pocket and produced a handkerchief. She folded it and applied pressure
 to the slash.
      "Don't fuss, Sable," Luthias  requested briskly. "I'm all right."
 He was better than  he had been in weeks. He reached  back, put an arm
 around her, then held out his hand to his friend. "Thanks, Michiya."
      The Bichurian smiled and took it. "Do not thank me, Luthias-sama.
 What is it you say...that is what friends are for."

      Somehow (Luthias  was never  sure how, and  quite sure  he didn't
 want to know) Marcellon got the  Count Connall and his bride, the Duke
 of Dargon, the former Baron of  Shipbrook, and Ittosai Michiya back to
 Dargon  Keep in  less  than  an hour.  There  the  High Mage  examined
 Luthias' back  and Myrande's  bruises. He turned  Myrande over  to his
 daughter and sent Luthias to bed with a sleeping potion. "You need the
 sleep," the High Mage told him.  "You haven't slept well in weeks, and
 there is much  to be done in this fortnight,  Count Connall." The High
 Mage grinned, rejoicing in using the young man's earned title.
      Luthias went to  the guest bedroom in Dargon  Keep dutifully, but
 he did not take  the potion. There was too much to  think about. For a
 while, he stared  at the fireplace, holding the document  the King had
 given him. Finally, he stood and walked to Myrande's room.
      He boldly knocked on the hard door. "Who's there?" Sable's voice,
 muffled, inquired.
      "Luthias."
      "Come."
      The  Count of  Connall opened  the door  quietly and  entered the
 room. Her dark  hair glowing from the light in  the fireplace, Myrande
 waited  for  him, her  arms  hugging  her  knees.  She was  wearing  a
 nightgown that was obviously intended  for the tall Duchess of Dargon;
 the cuffs fell past Myrande's thumbs, and the bodice draped lower than
 it should have. Gently, Luthias approached  her and sat on the bed. "I
 hope I didn't wake you," he began.
      "No, I couldn't sleep," Myrande  confessed tiredly. "I'm not sure
 I want to." She paused, stared  at the flames. "I've never hurt anyone
 before."
      "You were  marvelous," Luthias praised her.  "You were wonderful.
 I'm  proud of  you--and  so  is Michiya.  You  should  have heard  him
 bragging to Marcellon."
      "How is your back?" Sable asked, touching his arm lightly.
      "Nothing serious," Luthias related.  "Oleran just sliced the skin
 a little." The  Count Connall shrugged. "Marcellon  wasn't worried. He
 just bandaged it. There won't be a scar."
      "You and your scars!" Myrande  laughed, touching the (now) small,
 white one above his right eye. "You're so vain!" She stopped laughing,
 touched his  cheek. "I'm glad you  came, Luthias. I didn't  want to be
 alone tonight."
      Luthias took her  hand and pressed it to his  cheek in the manner
 of the Court. "I need to talk to you, Sable."
      Myrande  smiled. "You've  been saying  that since  before the  Sy
 tournament." She withdrew her hand. "What's wrong?"
      Unsure how  to begin, Luthias  looked away.  He was silent  for a
 long moment; then,  he reached out and took her  hands. They were very
1small. "Sable," he started, "I don't know why you want to marry me...I
 don't know why you agreed to it."
      "Because I want  to," she explained, happy but  confused. "I want
 to marry you."
      "Look, Sable," he began again, "I want you to be happy. Here." He
 handed her the parchment, heavy with the King's seal.
      Myrande inspected it dubiously. "What is it?"
      "It's  an order  from the  King," Luthias  told her  quietly, not
 looking her in  the eye. "I--it's an order--look, Sable,  I don't want
 you to  be trapped into a  marriage you don't want.  That royal decree
 says that  the man you love  must marry you.  I--" God, why was  it so
 hard to tell her he loved her? "I won't have you unhappy."
      For  a   moment,  Sable   stared  at   him  with   confusion  and
 astonishment. "I thought...you knew,"  she said slowly, incredulously.
 "I thought...when you asked me to marry you...I thought you knew..."
      "Know what?" Luthias demanded, looking  her in the eye. There was
 pain in his face, but it was the  brave pain of a lover willing to let
 his beloved go free. "All I know  is that I love you--" There. He said
 it. "--but I also know that you're in love with someone else, and--"
      "No!" she interrupted him with  abrupt finality. Luthias shut his
 mouth mid-word. "There is no one else."
      "What?" asked Luthias, gazing at her as if she had lost her mind.
      "There  is no  one  else," she  repeated,  gripping his  forearm.
 "There never was  anyone *else*. Only you."  Myrande stopped suddenly,
 timidly   reached  out   to  touch   his  face.   Her  hand   dropped.
 "Always...you."
      "*What?*" Luthias  squeaked. Unbelieving,  he snatched  the paper
 from her and  read the neat, formal words: "...We  decree by Our Royal
 Hand and  Seal that  Our vassal,  Luthias, Count  of Connall,  take in
 marriage  Our subject,  Lady Myrande  Shipbrook, on  account of  their
 great love...."  He stared at  the paper, then  at his bride.  "It was
 me?" he questioned. "Me? But, Sable..."
      "You," she confirmed. "I love you, Luthias."
      "But...all  these  years...four  years,  Sable!  And  I  never--"
 Suddenly, he  was flooded with  memories of  exactly what he  had done
 those four  years that Myrande  had loved him silently.  "The women--I
 was with so many other--"
      "I know," Myrande reminded him  without bitterness or judgment in
 her voice. "I mixed the contraceptive potions, remember?"
      "And  my   temper,"  Luthias  continued,  astonished.   "I  drink
 when...Sable, you love me?"
      "It isn't hard,"  Myrande told him, smiling. "You're  a good man,
 Luthias,  and I  don't  mind  your faults."  He  snorted in  contempt.
 "Besides, I have my faults, too."
      "What faults?" Luthias made a dubious sound. "You're perfect."
      (Hadn't Clifton said that about Lauren once....?)
      "Well, for  one," Myrande chanted  as if  it were a  litany, "I'm
 proud."
      "Oh, yes," Luthias agreed with utter and complete sincerity.
      "And stubborn."
      "Don't I know it!" Luthias concurred.
      "And I have one fault I know you never wanted in a wife."
      "What's that?" Luthias wondered, rolling the decree.
      "Virginity."
      Luthias let  the paper  drop and  stared at  her, stunned  for an
 extended moment. Then, suddenly, he began to laugh. Chuckling, Myrande
 watched as the Count laughed, the  sound of wedding bells, until tears
 of mirth rolled down his cheeks, until he released all the ills of the
 summer, until the halls of Dargon Keep rang with the homecoming of the
 Count of Connall.
1     Still  laughing, Luthias  finally gripped  his bride's  shoulders
 gently.  "Ah,  Sable, Sable,"  he  laughed  breathlessly, kissing  her
 firmly  on the  mouth, "may  I  be able  to  cure all  your faults  as
 easily!"

      The Duke of Dargon was  anxiously pacing the vestry adjoining the
 chapel in Dargon  Keep. He stopped suddenly and glared  at his cousin.
 "You could at least have the  decency to be nervous!" Clifton exploded
 at the seated, composed Count of Connall.
      "But  I  don't  have  anything  to  be  nervous  about!"  Luthias
 protested, laughing.
      "You're getting married," the  Duke growled, resuming his rounds.
 "Most people consider that enough to be nervous about."
      Ittosai Michiya,  leaning against a chair,  chuckled and expanded
 upon the  Duke's concern, although  his voice  showed that he  was too
 jovial  to share  it. "After  all,  Luthias-sama, you're  going to  be
 spending the rest of your life with her."
      "But I've spent all but six  months of my life with her already,"
 Luthias countered. "It's been fine so  far." The young Count shook his
 head. "I don't understand what all  the fuss is about, anyway. I don't
 know why you and Lauren feel you  have to throw this huge wedding, not
 to mention the feast and the ball. I don't want it; Sable doesn't want
 it."
      "She deserves the fuss,"  Clifton grumbled. "Besides, it wouldn't
 be right if she wasn't married off properly. You have to admit that."
      "Granted,"  Luthias  acknowledged,  "but  did  we  need  to  have
 something this big?"
      "You are a Count, manling," the Duke reminded him. "We have to do
 things properly. That means inviting half the Kingdom."
      "And receiving  gifts from  them," Luthias finished,  rolling his
 eyes. His  town keep, two  hours from Dargon  Keep, was filled  to the
 ceilings with wedding gifts.
      "Anything interesting?" Clifton wondered.
      "Lord Winston of  Gateway sent me some  beautiful silver arrows,"
 Luthias told  him, admiration for the  weapons in his voice.  "He sent
 Sable a  silver jewel box. And  we have this fine,  Freothold tapestry
 from a Lord and Lady Thorne."
      "Who are they?" Ittosai Michiya wondered, feeling for the wedding
 rings in his pocket. He was acting as Luthias' second in the ceremony,
 and he took the privilege very seriously. "I do not know them."
      "Neither do I," Luthias admitted. He  paused. "The King sent us a
 gift as well: our own house in Magnus."
      "He's  being very  generous to  you," Clifton  remarked. "And  to
 Sable. He sent home with me twenty ells of indigo silk for her wedding
 gown." The Duke of  Dargon grinned. "I think he wanted  to make up for
 the fact that she has to give you up so quickly."
      "It didn't work," Luthias laughed. Myrande had been quite unhappy
 when  she  discovered that  her  husband-to-be  would be  leaving  her
 fourteen days after his return to the Duchy. "Sable's ready to rip him
 apart."
      "Why do you not take her with you?" inquired Michiya practically.
      "I don't trust the Beinisonians," Luthias replied frankly.
      Michiya grimaced, but nodded. He  had as little reason as Luthias
 to trust the Beinison Empire. Then  he grinned. "This reminds me," the
 Bichurian began, "that I have not yet given you a gift." The Castellan
 of Connall  reached behind him and  tossed Luthias a book.  With a sly
 grin on his face, Michiya explained, "It is a pillow book."
      "A pillow book?" Luthias echoed dubiously. He opened the tome and
 read a few lines.  His jaw dropped, and he threw the  book back to his
 Castellan with somewhat mock indignance.  "What are you giving me this
1for? I don't need it! I'm not some amateur like Clifton!"
      "What is it?" the Duke  asked. Wordlessly, Ittosai Michiya handed
 Dargon the  book. Clifton opened it  randomly, read a few  words, then
 blushed  a fine  shade a  purple. "Who  are you  calling amateur?"  he
 demanded gruffly,  shutting the  tome quietly.  "My wife  is pregnant,
 isn't she?"
      "Accidents happen,"  Luthias quipped,  smiling. He looked  at his
 still pacing  cousin, who scowled at  him. "How soon, Clifton?  Can we
 get this performance over with?"
      "As soon as Lauren comes,"  Clifton assured him. The Duke stopped
 mid-step. "You do have a wedding gift for her, don't you?"
      "Of course." Luthias didn't know  much about weddings, but he did
 know that  bride and groom received  gifts from each other.  He handed
 Clifton an old, velvet box.
      The Duke opened  it and smiled at the  sapphire necklace, broach,
 ring, hair pieces,  and bracelets. "I helped your  father pick these,"
 Clifton said.  Although he  had only  been four  at the  time, Clifton
 Dargon could still  remember his uncle Fionn's  wedding. "They matched
 your mother's eyes perfectly." Dargon  closed the musty box and handed
 them to the bridegroom. "They'll look well on Sable."
      There  was a  quiet knock  on  the door.  "Clifton," the  Duchess
 called him, "you have a bride to give away."
      Clifton smiled. Since Luthias, as  bridegroom, was in no position
 to give his ward in marriage, his Duke had pre-empted him by reason of
 rank and kinship. "Let's go, manling."
      The Count and  his Castellan left the vestry and  walked onto the
 sanctuary. "What do we do now?"  Michiya wondered as Luthias nodded to
 the High Priest of the Duchy of Dargon.
      "Wait," Luthias answered, handing his  second the jewels. Then he
 leaned  close  and whispered,  "Did  you  get  the horse  ready?"  The
 Castellan nodded, and  only then did Luthias take the  time to look at
 the chapel.
      The  high  stone  walls  were   decorated  with  "all  manner  of
 sentimental stupidity,"  as Luthias  had called it  earlier. Evergreen
 branches, to  represent long  life, adorned the  walls and  the altar.
 Blazing  torches, symbols  of  passion, burned  brightly  in the  wall
 sconces. Apples  and bread, representing fertility  and security, were
 piled on the altar. Rose petals  and autumn flowers were spread in the
 aisle framed by the guests to  soften the bride's steps into marriage.
 Sentimental refuse, Luthias groaned internally. Roisart would love it.
      Soon, Luthias  heard the sounds  of harps and  singing announcing
 his Sable's approach. At a nod  from the High Priest, Luthias began to
 walk the aisle  toward the door. He  glanced from side to  side at the
 guests; although  they had invited  the entire Duchy, Luthias  had not
 expected so many people to come. His Aunt Tornia, Duchess of Asbridge,
 had sailed from  Magnus for the occasion. The Duchess  of Narragan and
 Dame  Martis  Westbrook had  come  with  her. Luthias  almost  sighed,
 wishing briefly  that Marcellon and  Sir Edward could be  here. Edward
 couldn't  leave the  King, not  with a  possible war  on the  way, and
 Marcellon, for the  same reason, returned to Magnus and  his duties as
 High Mage soon after Myrande had been rescued.
      There were  other guests  missing, too,  a pair  of kinsmen...and
 Luthias missed them most sorely of all.
      Slowly, the  heavy doors  of the chapel  opened when  Luthias and
 Ittosai arrived.  Behind them was  the bridal procession:  Bartol, the
 Ducal bard, Lauren, and finally,  surrounded by minstrels, Clifton and
 Luthias' sable bride.
      Her well-fitting wedding gown was of the indigo silk the King had
 sent; her  ebony hair, left  mostly loose, was bedecked  with sapphire
 ribbons. Her  onyx eyes were glowing  softly, and she smiled  shyly at
1Luthias, who returned the expression.
      My God, she is beautiful.
      Clearly, and without warning, the Duke of Dargon spoke the ritual
 words: "Count of Connall, I give my kinswoman unto thee for thy wife."
      "My lord," Luthias answered, "I thank thee." Confidently, Luthias
 held out  his hand. Myrande  wordlessly put  her small hand  into his.
 They turned  and traveled  the aisle, Myrande's  full skirt  and train
 reaping rose petals. Michiya and Lauren followed.
      The High  Priest welcomed  them by offering  them his  hands. The
 couple knelt.  "May the  blessings of  the Almighty  God be  upon you,
 Count of Connall and Lady Myrande,  upon the day of your marriage." He
 made a  sign of blessing above  them, then helped them  to their feet.
 "Count of  Connall, Lady Myrande:  do you both  come here of  your own
 volition?"
      "I do,"  Luthias and Myrande  answered. Luthias cast a  glance at
 the  pompous priest;  Myrande  rolled her  eyes,  and Luthias  somehow
 managed to stifle his laughter.
      "Do you  both seek the blessings  of God and of  the Church?" the
 priest continued in a ritual voice.
      "I do," answered  the bride and groom. This was  taking too long,
 Luthias thought. Couldn't that priest move any faster?
      "Then you  must both  ask, each  the other,  to accept  you," the
 priest instructed.  He didn't have  to talk through his  nose, Luthias
 thought. He saw Sable biting her  lip; she was stifling chuckles, too.
 Luthias compressed his mouth. He knew he had to be serious.
      And  then the  priest  said something  that  surprised the  Count
 Connall: "If any here can give cause why the Count of Connall and Lady
 Myrande should not pledge themselves to each other, let him speak now,
 or speak never!"
      So that was why Clifton wouldn't let him bring his sword! Luthias
 tensed. If anyone tried to stop this--
      But  no  one  spoke,  and   Luthias  realized  that  it  was  his
 turn--finally!--to recite the ritual. He had memorized it hastily, and
 hoped he wouldn't forget anything. "My lady Myrande," he began slowly.
 Please, don't let me forget the words. "I ask thee to accept me as thy
 husband, as the man I am. I am a man imperfect and faulted, yet this I
 will promise thee: I will be a faithful and true husband to thee until
 God takes one of us to Himself.  With myself, I offer thee this gift."
 Luthias  hated that  part;  it  seemed like  he  was  trying to  bribe
 Myrande.  But  he  handed  her  the sapphires.  She  opened  the  box,
 recognized the jewels, and smiled. "Wilt thou take me, Myrande?"
      "I will," she answered, smiling.  Luthias felt like laughing with
 joy, but  it was his  bride's turn to  speak. "My lord  Luthias, Count
 Connall, I ask thee to accept me as  the wife, as the woman I am. I am
 a woman imperfect and faulted, yet this I will promise thee: I will be
 to  thee a  faithful  and true  wife  until  God takes  one  of us  to
 Himself."  Myrande  reached out  a  hand;  Lauren put  a  silk-wrapped
 package into it. Sable offered Luthias her gift. "With myself, I offer
 thee  this  gift." Luthias  undid  the  ribbons;  it was  a  well-done
 portrait,  the size  of his  palm, of  Sable in  her wedding  gown. He
 smiled  and  handed the  portrait  to  Ittosai.  "Wilt thou  take  me,
 Luthias?"
      "I will," he  said firmly. Luthias was damned if  he was allowing
 argument on this.
      The  High Priest  raised his  hands ceremoniously.  "May God  the
 Almighty  bless and  sanctify this  union and  keep them  faithful and
 true,  one unto  the other,  until the  day when  He brings  them unto
 Himself." The High  Priest relaxed his arms and  looked expectantly at
 Michiya.
      "The rings!"  Lauren whispered hastily. Ittosai  jumped, properly
1embarrassed, and handed the priest the two golden bands.
      The  priest made  a blessing  sign over  them. "May  these rings,
 symbols of  your pledges, keep  you one  unto the other.  Confirm your
 troth."
      As was  custom, Luthias picked  Myrande's ring from  the priest's
 palm. "With this ring," he recited, "I thee wed." It would just be his
 luck, Luthias thought,  to forget the words now. "This  golden ring to
 thee I give. With  my body, I thee worship, and with  my goods, I thee
 endow."  He touched  ring to  her  thumb, her  forefinger, her  middle
 finger, then finally slid the golden  band onto her fourth finger. "So
 be it."
      Her  voice strong,  Myrande took  his  ring from  the priest  and
 recited  the words,  repeating the  ritual.  She touched  each of  his
 fingers, then put  the ring on him.  It gleamed like her  eyes. "So be
 it," she finished, smiling at him. Luthias squeezed her hand.
      "Do you, Lauren, Duchess of  Dargon, and you, Ittosai of Michiya"
 Damn it, *no* one could say his name right! "witness this union?"
      "I do," replied the Duchess and the Castellan.
      "You  are now  in the  eyes of  God and  the Kingdom  husband and
 wife," the High Priest finished  authoritatively. He looked at Luthias
 with irate expectancy.
      Luthias gave him an amused look.
      "Kiss her, stupid!"  the Duke of Dargon called  without any trace
 of dignity.
      Luthias laughed like  a boy, leaned forward, and  kissed his wife
 firmly on the lips. As was custom, he suddenly took Myrande's hand and
 dashed from the  chapel in the symbolic attempt as  escaping the feast
 to be alone.  With a cheer, the wedding guests  followed in a confused
 fashion.
      Luthias  was  pulling his  Countess  along  at a  terrific  rate.
 Myrande was laughing like a girl.  "You're supposed let them catch us,
 you know," she playfully chided her husband.
      "Like hell," Luthias responded. "Run!"
      Myrande's eyes  widened admiringly at Luthias'  audacity, grabbed
 her endless  skirts, and  ran. Luthias pulled  her around  the corner,
 pushed on a loose brick, and yanked her into the secret passage. "Now,
 let's hope that Roisart and I were the only ones who ever found this,"
 the Count  breathed, grinning at  his bride.  "Let's get out  of here,
 Sable."
      Expertly, Connall  led his wife  through the dark  passage, which
 led eventually  to the garden.  There, near the exit,  was Dragonfire.
 "Thanks, Michiya," Luthias breathed. Abruptly, he took Myrande's waist
 and lifted  her onto  the horse. He  gracefully placed  himself behind
 her, took the reins, and galloped out of the courtyard.
      Sable leaned  against Luthias and  laughed. "I don't  believe you
 did this!"
      The Count put one strong arm around her waist. "I don't like that
 bedding ceremony." He paused. "I  don't want anyone undressing you but
 me."
      "Well," laughed Lady Connall. She shivered in the cool autumn air
 and leaned against Luthias for warmth.
      "Do you mind missing the feast?" Luthias asked her suddenly.
      "Not one bit."  Myrande twisted and kissed him. "I  only have you
 for a week more; I want as much time as I can get."
      Luthias  glanced  behind him  for  pursuit;  there was  none.  He
 reigned Dragonfire and kissed Sable  deeply. She pulled away, her arms
 around his neck. "And  now, my lord," she began, "where  do we go from
 here? The keep?"
      "No," the  Count Connall denied  firmly. "That's the  first place
 they'll look." He  steered Dragonfire into the woods.  "We're going to
1Warin's town house, outside the city." His wife stared at him. Luthias
 grinned. "Warin, Michiya, and I arranged this days ago. Don't worry."
      "I'm not worried. I trust you."
      "We'll go back  tomorrow," Luthias told her. "I  have some things
 left to arrange with the trip and with the incorporation of Coranabo's
 lands."  He looked  at her.  "You'll  be regent  as soon  as you  turn
 twenty-one."
      "Whatever you  like. How long will  it take us to  get to Warin's
 house?" Myrande wondered after a pause.
      Luthias grinned. "Afraid to be out after dark, Sable?"
      "Not with you," she returned the banter.
      "I won't let the ghosts get you," he promised playfully.
      Sable laughed merrily. "Why should I be afraid of ghosts? They're
 only dead people. What dead person would want to harm me?"
      "Oleran?"
      "Inconsequential,"  Myrande asserted.  "There are  too many  dead
 people who would want to protect me."
      "Like whom?"
      "My father and mother. Roisart. Your father."
      "Father..." Luthias echoed, halting the horse. He stared into the
 darkness,  thinking something  he had  not allowed  himself to  ponder
 before the wedding.
      Myrande gently touched his jaw. "What is it?"
      "My father wouldn't approve of this, Sable."
      She stared at him quizzically. "Approve of what?"
      "Our marriage."  Luthias looked  away. "He told  me to  stay away
 from you, not to toy with you..."
      Myrande  looked as  if  she suddenly  understood something.  "And
 that's  why you  never..." She  smiled,  turned his  face toward  her.
 "Luthias, he  was only trying to  protect me. He wasn't  sure you were
 ready to love me as I loved you. He..." Sable shrugged. "He told me to
 wait for you. He planned on us marrying, eventually. He was hoping for
 it."
      Luthias met her eyes. "Really?"
      "Truly. I wouldn't deceive you."
      The Count  kissed his wife,  then pulled  away and looked  at her
 mutely. "Let's go," she whispered. "I only have a little time with you
 left."
      "I'll be  back to  dance with  you at  the Melrin  Ball," Luthias
 vowed, starting the horse forward slowly. Sable leaned tiredly against
 him. "You're beautiful, Sable," Luthias  told her, watching her in the
 moonlight.
      "Watch where you're going," she returned harshly.
      Luthias halted  Dragonfire abruptly and  put his arms  around his
 wife.  "Easy, Sable,"  he soothed  her, "I  won't be  gone for  long."
 Myrande  held  his  arms as  if  she  never  wanted  to let  go.  "I'm
 ambassador, Sable. No one's going to hurt me."
      Myrande's eyes  were hard. "If  you believed that, you'd  take me
 with you."
      Luthias cursed internally.  Sable knew him too  well, always had.
 The Count  turned his  wife to  face him.  "Listen, Sable.  Nothing is
 going to keep  me from returning to  you. Do you hear  me? Nothing. No
 one." He then repeated, "I'll be back  to dance with you at the Melrin
 Ball."
      "Even  as a  ghost?" she  tried to  play, but  her voice  sounded
 choked.
      "Don't be silly," Luthias  quipped. "Ghosts don't dance." Myrande
 smiled, and the Count hugged her tightly. "Better?" he inquired.
      "I still  don't want you to  go," she said. "But  there's no help
 for it, I suppose."
1     "No," Luthias  agreed, "and there's  no use staying out  here all
 night in the chill when we should be home in bed."
      Sable laughed  gratefully and kissed  her husband. "As  you wish,
 your Excellency. I would not think to dispute you."
 ------------------------------------------------------------------------
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              ______________________________________

              A Journal of Fact, Fiction and Opinion
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  >> What is Athene?

     Athene is a free network "magazine" devoted to amateur fiction
     written by the members of the online community.  Athene does not
     restrict itself to any specific genre, but will publish quality
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     including (but not limited to):

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     For those who don't have access to a PostScript-compatible
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  >> Miscellaneous

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1------------------------------------------------------------------------
    (C)   Copyright    November,   1989,   DargonZine,    Editor   Dafydd
 <White@DUVM.BitNet>. All rights revert to the authors. These stories may
 not be reproduced  or redistributed save in the case  of reproducing the
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 the author involved.