on their shields in a steady beat. A single horseman on a magnificent blue roan stallion trotted
down the steep road from the citadel. He was in no hurry, raising a hand to the people hanging
out of the windows to watch, then resettling his gold-trimmed purple cloak over his shining mail
shirt. There was no haste for Fergox Spearthrower because he knew the world would wait for
him.
Orboyd knelt in the dirt of the highway, as did all the circus folk. Only Ramil was left standing.
Fergox reined in his horse ten paces from the wagons and dismounted. He had a sturdy frame,
short grizzled grey hair, and a fighter's face: crooked nose and hard blue eyes. He was clean
shaven, needing no beard with scarlet threads, for everyone knew how many men he had killed
over the years.
"Report, Orboyd. I understand you were successful." Fergox's voice was harsh but penetrating.
Even the soldiers at the back of the guard of honor could hear every word.
"Yes, master. Your spies were able to tell me exactly
94
when and where to find them and Gerfalian security was weak."
Fergox smiled, a chilling expression from him. "They have become complacent, thinking that no
one dare strike at the heart of their kingdom.
They will not be so lax again. You've done well." He offered Orboyd his hand to kiss. "The
95
spymaster will pay you double for your service to the Empire. But first you must present me to
our guests."
Orboyd bowed himself backwards from Fergox to reach Ramil. He untied the Prince and led him
forwards. Ramil did not resist, preferring to walk with dignity to being dragged before his
enemy.
Fergox shook his head and tutted. "What's this, Orboyd? Why is Prince Ramil ac Burinholt
tethered like a bullock to your wagon? That is no way to treat royal blood."
"But, your lordship, he tried to escape--"
"I expected no less of a prince." Fergox regarded Ramil with approval. "Still, perhaps it was as well to punish the cub."
Ramil clenched his fists. A prince of Gerfal, a cub? Fergox spoke as if the ac Burinholts were
already under his dominion.
Fergox gave Ramil a curt nod in greeting. "Prince Ramil, I have ordered suitable quarters to be
made ready for your accommodation. We have much to talk about but doubtless you would first
like to rest yourself after your journey."
Ramil had to speak. "No, I first demand to be
95
released. There is no war declared between Gerfal and Holt. Bringing me here as a prisoner--
abducting me in my own lands--these are scandalous acts, unworthy of a noble. I demand--"
96
"Tush, tush!" Fergox waved Ramil away as if he were a bothersome child having a tantrum. "We are beyond all that now, surely you realize that, Prince Ramil? Seizing you was my declaration of
war. There will be time enough to discuss all this later." He turned away from Ramil, dismissing
him.
"But what of the Princess? Where is she? You did bring her, didn't you, Orboyd?"
The circus man tugged at his collar. "I did, sir, but she hurt herself when trying to escape."
"He lies," Ramil said angrily. "He beat her senseless."
Fergox's face darkened.
"That's not it at all," Orboyd protested, rushing to excuse himself. "The boy didn't see anything.
You know, sir, what these Blue Crescent infidels are like, so cunning, so wicked. The witch used
her spells to slip away and . . .
and fell out of a tree."
"Where is she?" snapped Fergox.
"In the wagon over there," Orboyd said quickly. "She's received the best nursing from us despite her evil ways and is nearly fully recovered."
In an ill-humor now, Fergox slapped his gloves into his hand and strode over to the fortune-
teller's wagon. He leapt up the step at the rear and threw the canvas aside. Light streamed into
the darkness, striking a mass of golden hair spread out on a shabby sheepskin.
97
96
Tashi woke abruptly to see a dark figure of a man silhouetted in the entry.
She raised herself on an elbow, trying to make out who it was.
"Gordoc?" she asked hoarsely. It had been hours since anyone had given her water.
The man kicked the furs aside and knelt beside her. It wasn't Gordoc, or anyone from the circus.
He was a complete stranger, but he was looking at her with intense blue eyes. Then he reached
out, touched her hand and raised it to his lips.
"My little Tashi," he said, letting her hand fall gently back onto the covers.
Tashi's heart gave a wild skip of joy. He knew her true name. "Have you come to save me, sir?"
He nodded. "Yes, I've come to save you. This whole journey has been merely a step on the path
to your salvation."
Tashi lay back on her bed, feeling at peace for the first time in months. "The Mother sent you.
She hasn't abandoned me," she whispered.
The man shook his head. "No, not the Mother. She is a blasphemy; she does not exist, just a fair
mask put on by evil powers. You are deluded and misguided but soon all that will be behind
you."
98
"No," gasped Tashi, hugging the covers to her chest. "That's not true!"
She flinched as he ran a finger down her cheek, his expression hungry. He must have been a
demon sent to tempt her to despair. Her fever could not yet have broken; this was a horrible
dream.
97
"Rest, Princess, there is much you must do for me. I need you well and looking your best." He nodded, pleased with what he saw. "My Tashi. My agents chose well for me when they had you
elected."
He jumped back out of the wagon, letting the canvas fall back into place.
Tashi touched her cheek, the skin still burning where he had caressed her.
How did he know her name? What did he mean when he said that his
agents had chosen her? She was chosen by the Goddess, by the priests of Kai, not by a man from
the East with a cruel mouth.
The wagon trundled up the cobbled streets. Tashi could hear the jingle of bridles, hooves, and
people shouting in the streets.
"Come see the Prince!" they called.
She closed her eyes. So Ramil had not even managed to get away. Could the boy not do anything
99
right?
"Orboyd's caught a witch too!" someone shouted.
The cry was taken up and passed from house to house. "A prince and a witch! A prince and a
witch!"
Tashi lay quietly on her bed, thankful that she was hidden away. She couldn't understand how
these people confused her beliefs with witchcraft.
Where she came from, witches were said to dabble in dark powers, exerting their will over
others to harm them. But she had touched no one, barely spoken, tried to be as self-effacing as
possible and yet still they said these terrible things about her. What had she done to deserve it?
The wagon drew to a halt and the canvas side was lifted.
98
She sat up to find Orboyd standing over her. It was the first time she had seen him since he had
struck her and she could not repress a shiver of fear.
"We're here," he said curtly. "Gordoc, carry her inside."
Her one-time protector made the wagon creak as he clambered aboard. He knelt beside her,
reached to touch her hair but stopped himself.
"I'm sorry, little one, I broke my word. I didn't stop them hurting you," he said sadly. "But come now, here we part. Let me carry you inside. You'll be well looked after from now on."