Corbel made Valya remain behind him as they approached the quartet awaiting her.

“It might be wise for you to remember that I am risking my life to keep yours safe,” he cautioned beneath his breath. “To reveal us now would be to welcome your own death. I will kill you myself if you betray the others.”

He stepped ahead, recognizing Stracker from Sergius’s vision. He didn’t know either the one-handed man or the officious-looking civilian with the smirk on his face, but the fourth person he recognized despite the years and his heart skipped a beat, surprising him by the rush of emotion he felt to see Piven again. There was no mistaking the small sunny youngster of yesteryear, now a strapping youth. Though he was smiling, as he always had in Corbel’s memory, the expression looked cynical now rather than open.

Corbel stopped himself from even murmuring his name as it sprang to his lips. As hard as it was to accept, Piven was the enemy now.

“Empress,” Piven said. It sounded like a welcome but Corbel heard an icy undertone he did not trust.

To her credit, Valya hardly blinked an eyelash, not so much as a heartbeat passing before she was curtseying low before him. “I no longer consider myself that, your majesty. Through choice I return myself to a former royal of Droste and your willing servant.” She did not rise, kept her head bowed. “But thank you all the same.”

Corbel watched Piven’s eyes narrow. As young as he was, it seemed the youth was not beguiled by Valya’s servile attitude.

“And who are these fellows?” Piven wondered aloud, overly brightly.

“We are the men employed by Loethar to guard his wife,” Corbel said, amazed that while the passing of time had surely changed his features, the beads had given him a cushion of security. There wasn’t even a flash of recognition from Piven.

“I don’t know you,” Stracker growled.

“We are hired men, general. We were told she was not worthy of his soldiers.”

Valya said nothing but, looking down, Corbel could see her trembling with rage.

“You are brave men to come out here,” Piven remarked.

Corbel forced himself to give a soft but not insulting look of dismay. “I have no argument with you, my lord. Forgive me if I address you incorrectly. I am a simple man and have no interest in the politics of our empire. We have been paid to do a caretaking task, that is all. I mean no disrespect if you are now the authority.”

“None taken,” Piven replied. “Step back,” he commanded.

Corbel lifted his gaze to Piven.

“I hope that’s not a challenge I see in that look?”

“No, my lord. But my role is to guard the former empress.”

“And now you have new orders from the new emperor. Step back.”

Unhappily but disguising his trepidation, Corbel took one step back, keeping himself level with Valya.

Piven sniffed the air and suddenly laughed. “Do you feel it, Greven? Can’t you just smell it?”

Corbel’s gaze shifted to the one-handed man. This was Lily’s father. He looked weary and disheveled but mostly he looked to be filled with despair. Corbel noticed he did not answer Piven and Piven didn’t seem to care.

He was laughing again instead. “There is powerful magic in the air today,” he said, rubbing his hands. “But whose, I wonder?” He returned his attention to Valya, switching unpredictably to his former interest. “If you value your life, you’ll tell me whether Lily Felt is behind those gates.”

“I don’t know a Lily Felt, majesty. Who is she?”

Corbel couldn’t help but feel impressed. Valya was playing the most dangerous of games. What did she hope to achieve?

“Fair enough. I would imagine you have no reason to know her and perhaps would not be privy to all strangers crossing the convent threshold. So,” he said, as if it mattered not, “to other things. Which Valisar is behind those doors?”

“Valisar?”

“Please don’t ever take me for a fool, Valya, particularly as you seem to be standing before me hoping to find some favor. I have no reason in the world to extend a mote of sympathy toward you, so it would be wise to give me reason to at least be vaguely impressed by you. Is there a Valisar child hiding behind those walls . . . a daughter . . . because I want her.”

And Corbel watched Valya smile; she’d painted her lips for this meeting and her mouth looked like a red gash as it stretched in cunning pleasure. His heart pounded. She was going to give Evie to them and though it mattered not—Evie was safe with Faris’s aegis magic—he would personally despatch Valya for her treachery.

“Yes, majesty, there is a Valisar daughter,” Valya confirmed.

Piven, who had been seated on the steps of the carriage, now stood, his eyes glittering in his still boyish face. “I knew it,” he murmured.

“How did you know?” Valya asked.

Corbel noticed Stracker and Vulpan looked confused, while Greven looked at the ground, anger and despair all over his face. Corbel threw a glance Barro’s way but his friend gave an almost indiscernible shake of his head to suggest he wasn’t sure what was going on either.

“I have known about her for some time,” he said and Corbel heard Valya give a soft gasp of shock. “Besides, I can feel her magic. I can feel the Valisar power too but this princess . . .” He smiled. “Her scent overlays it. She feels close enough to touch.”

Corbel felt a wave of fresh tension grip him. Piven had always known? How? They’d only been back in the world for a matter of days.

“I would like you to give her to me now,” Piven said.

Corbel bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself saying anything. He imagined drawing his sword and . . . and nothing; he would be bleeding out within moments.

“What will you do with her?” Valya asked, her voice trembling.

How well she acts, Corbel thought angrily.

“That’s my business, Valya.”

Corbel watched from the corner of his eye as Valya licked her blood red lips. “Your majesty, I am frightened. If I deliver her to you, then I have nothing left with which to bargain for my life.”

“Valya,” Piven replied reasonably. “You have nothing left anyway. If I really want to I can just take her. She is but a child. I have my aegis; I am in my full power. Let me ask: does she have an aegis?”

Valya shook her head, much to Corbel’s surprise. He had no idea what she thought she was doing. She certainly wouldn’t be safe with Piven and Stracker.

“So she has no aegis—that means she has no power to speak of. And what’s more she is a child, frightened of her own shadow probably, crying when she is hungry.” He said this so kindly that Valya fell for it, Corbel noted.

“Yes, oh yes, your majesty. She is just a child; simple affection and a soothing voice is all she needs. She will not challenge you.”

“Cannot challenge me,” he impressed.

She shook her head tearily. “No, she will not. So please, don’t hurt her.”

Corbel was stunned. Valya genuinely sounded as if she cared.

“Go and fetch her, Valya. At least this way you can cling to what little hope you have left of redeeming yourself.”

Corbel heard the false note. Piven was toying with the woman and while he had not an iota of fondness or care even for Valya, he would not see any woman humiliated. If Piven had killed Valya where she stood Corbel would have understood it—she deserved it, and it would be honest of Piven—but this sport he was making of her suffering turned Corbel’s stomach.

“Can I redeem myself, majesty? Will you spare me, spare her?”

“We shall see,” Piven said slyly. “But we have to start somewhere trusting each other. You first,” he said, clearly enjoying himself. Corbel was disgusted. How had Piven come to this? If he was shocked to see the once invalid, sweet little boy so whole and alert, he was deeply saddened to see what a mockery he made of all that Corbel hoped the Valisar crown stood for . . . what his father had died for.

Valya hiccupped a soft sob, appearing torn. It seemed obvious to Corbel that she was going to attempt to hand Evie over to these men and he couldn’t understand what her reluctance was. In fact he was spending more time worrying over Valya—a woman he hated—than Evie, the woman he loved, because Evie was safe . . . and Valya knew it. So what was the—?

The wheels of his mind suddenly stopped turning. His thoughts juddered to a loud and shattering halt as he realized that everyone, including him, but excepting Valya, had been talking about the wrong princess.

“You are right, she is close enough for you to touch, majesty,” Valya tearily admitted.

And Corbel helplessly reacted as she reached to unwrap the bundle in her hands . . . the bundle that he’d thought was perhaps a change of clothes or a few precious items, but he now knew was her newly born child . . . the daughter that Loethar believed dead . . . the other Valisar princess.

Elka had crept up as silently as a rock mouse, her tread light despite her size, her balance perfect as she navigated the terrain, keen eyes scanning ahead for any spots of danger. And now she found herself at a perfect vantage to see exactly what was going on.

Leonel was smugly looking down at what was unfolding before the convent. Valya was bowing before the newly arrived strangers and this piece of theater fully held the attention of Leo’s quartet. The biggest shock of all, however, was to see a crowd in the forest above them, sitting together in dread silence with their hands all linked. Elka couldn’t tell if they were scared or simply full of anticipation but the atmosphere certainly felt tense and dangerous. What were they doing? Praying? Elka frowned. She didn’t want to leave until she knew what Leo was up to.

One of the quartet—a middle-aged woman—peeled away from the others and moved back to the main group. Hidden but sharp of hearing, Elka listened.

“We await his signal,” the woman said. She was talking to many and clearly was not afraid of being heard this high up. “General Marth and I are agreed that if the king uses our combined powers for anything other than what we believe is necessary force we will override him.”

There was a murmuring among the folk who listened.

Elka watched the woman in charge shrug. “I don’t like it much either but I know that for most of you this was never something you wanted to be involved with. Aggression is not the way of the Vested and perhaps I have always been more militant than the majority of you but I have lost more than my freedom to the barbarians. Perl as the king’s aegis has no choice but to follow his command but the rest of us are not bound to him.”

“What if he turns on us?” someone asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t know what to say to that but I hope it won’t come to it and frankly he has no reason to. We are his weapon, don’t forget, and if we defy him you will have plenty of warning to scatter. I hope we don’t have to stop giving him our powers. We only will if we feel he is getting out of control and killing innocents.”

“No one is innocent down there,” another remarked. “He can kill all the barbarians as far as I’m concerned.”

“I know, Beltor, but not everyone feels like that. It is murder if no one fights back . . . and you forget that there are nuns down there in the convent, all of whom are innocent. So, while I can’t assure you of anything, at least we are trying to do something to help ourselves . . . that should be our comfort.” She tried to smile. “The Vested finally fought back.”

More murmurings moved through the people but Elka was no longer paying attention. Her mind was already running to Loethar and Gavriel down below. Leo wasn’t just suffused with a new-found aegis magic but he was somehow in control of a different and clearly powerful way to kill. How he was going to do it, she couldn’t tell but she had noticed that their spokesperson briefing them had looked at another middle-aged woman several times and the group had also glanced at the other woman. She seemed to be a focus of what might occur and yet she looked harmless enough with those rosy cheeks and her plump countenance.

Elka wanted to steal back down into the convent to warn Loethar and Gavriel, but her instincts told her to stay put, where if necessary she could either put the rosy-cheeked woman she was unsure about out of action or find a way to disrupt the Vested. Her hand twitched by her catapult. Though she knew Leo was protected by his aegis, all these people could not be as well. One way or another she would not allow them to hurt Gavriel . . . or Loethar.

Corbel shocked everyone, himself most of all, by leaping forward. “My lady, do not!” he warned, reaching out to stop Valya from handing over her helpless baby. Nothing, absolutely nothing—even if this cost him his life—would permit him to stand by and watch another innocent newborn lose its life over the accursed Valisar magic.

Horrific memories came rushing back as he recalled the sickening sensation of forcing the life out of that anonymous baby. It was his duty, his father had said gravely, but he’d seen the look of fear and loathing in Regor de Vis that day and could now almost believe that his father had happily ridden out, almost welcoming death from Loethar’s blade as retribution for his part in Brennus’s plan. Corbel had spent a lifetime trying to redeem himself by looking after Evie so fervently. He could not permit a child to die in his care again.

*  *  *

Genevieve walked through the door that Ravan held open and hesitated at the darkness inside.

Close the door, a voice sliced into her mind.

Ravan did so and Evie blinked, not sure it if was out of shock at the voice or the sudden plunge into the black.

You will need to use this link I have opened or I cannot hear you, child. Do not be scared. I believe I am in the presence of a Valisar princess. You have little to fear.

I . . . I have brought someone with me, Evie began tremulously.

Indeed. He is welcome too. Normally I do not permit two people at once but the man who calls himself Ravan is not entirely real, and you and he are linked so strongly that it would not have made sense to leave him outside.

Ravan and I? Evie echoed. We are perfect strangers!

Not through blood, the woman replied. Come closer, child, let me touch you.

Confused and a bit fearful, Evie gingerly moved through the dark. Her eyes were adjusting and she could just make out a small air vent through which tiny shafts of light penetrated high in the wall of the lofted ceiling. With each passing moment it became easier to make out shape and form. By the time she reached the woman, she could make her out with surprising clarity.

I am pleased to meet you, Qirin.

Genevieve. Well met, child. I never thought I’d hold the hand of a Valisar princess.

Or I the hands of a blind, mute seer who could speak to me in my mind. I am a woman of science, Qirin; this defies it.

Science? Hmmm, that word escapes me.

Evie tried again. I trust only what I can understand.

Do you misunderstand me . . . am I not speaking your language?

You are, but—

Am I real to your touch or am I a vision?

You are real.

Do your eyes deceive, do your ears lie, does your mind not perceive my voice as easily as if I’d spoken the words aloud?

Evie sighed in the Qirin’s mind.

Then we understand one another, do we not?

She smiled. We do.

You can trust me, Genevieve. I speak only truths.

Who is Ravan? Evie asked.

Ravan is a specter.

Of whom?

Of Cormoron, First of the Valisars. He is here to help the Valisars but particularly the female line.

How is he to help me?

He urged you to visit here. He was bringing Roddy to you when fate stepped in and Loethar crossed his path. Ravan has memories and knowledge that are vital to you and your magic.

People are about to die out there, Qirin. Can I stop it?

The old woman laughed in her mind.

Is that funny?

Amusing. You are the most powerful of the Valisars to have ever walked this land and you ask me the most simple of questions.

Please answer me.

Yes, Genevieve, you can stop the killing. But you can save more than lives, child. Individual lives are of no account. It is the greater good that matters most.

Evie felt frustrated and confused. I am a healer, Qirin. I am interested in cutting away cancers, sewing wounds and making light in the darkness of people’s lives. My focus is ordinarily so small. How can I help the greater good?

You have spoken it, Genevieve. You do not need me. Consider who you are and what skills you possess and then consider the great legacy that was deemed yours by the goddess Cyrena.

Cyrena?

I am tired now. Ask Ravan. She made him.

No wait, Qirin, please.

Weariness comes and I am at the end of my life. Perhaps in meeting you my life has been made complete. Tell her, Ravan. Go now and remember, it is not your aegis magic that is important but your own.

Evie opened her mouth to ask more but there was no use. The Qirin slumped forward, seemingly asleep.

“Come, your majesty,” Ravan said. “Time is against us and I have much to explain.”

“Yes, of course,” Evie said, dazed.

“Cyrena is a serpent, a very powerful goddess who watched over the Valisars,” he began as he led her to the door of the chamber, “and she made an agreement with Cormoron, First of the Valisars . . .”

In the courtyard, the men were watching what was unfolding through tiny peepholes they’d discovered in the walls. It seemed the nuns had always had the ability to glimpse the outside world from their closed one, but even with that unexpected help it was difficult to observe the action closely.

Gavriel had remained at the gate, his hand on Lily’s arm, startled by the grown Piven. He still echoed that bright young child with the sweet nature and brilliant smile but that’s where the similarities ended. Everything else about Piven, from his attitude to his strangely frightening presence, was a shock. And though it hurt him to believe it, Gavriel suspected Piven was unpredictable and could not be trusted.

Holding his breath, he had shared the tension in the courtyard with his new allies, witnessing the scene unfolding outside. He had listened with escalating concern as the conversation had begun to turn less tolerant and a great deal more threatening.

Gavriel had silently signaled to Loethar with a hand across his throat that the situation had turned dire. The expression on Loethar’s face mirrored his own anxiety and the emperor had arrived quietly at his side.

“I’ll go out. It’s the very best distraction we have.”

Gavriel nodded. “We know you’re safe. Buy us some time. Pretend to negotiate.”

Loethar clearly agreed. But just as he was beckoning Roddy and Kilt from their peepholes to warn that they should intensify the ring of protection, they heard a cry from outside and Gavriel just glimpsed Corbel making a sudden and unexpected lunge at Valya.

He was a heartbeat too slow.

“Valya, don’t!” Corbel yelled.

But Valya had revealed enough of the infant to grab Piven’s interest.

Barro, alarmed by Corbel’s sudden lurch, instinctively drew his sword. Corbel yelled a warning to him but it came too late.

“Kill him, Greven,” Piven said casually.

Greven’s look of despair deepened. “You just had to draw your weapon, didn’t you?” he growled at Barro, who had begun to back off.

Stracker began to laugh. “Your dog doesn’t even have a weapon.”

“Be careful, Stracker,” Piven warned. “I might turn my dog on you one day.”

Corbel couldn’t bear to watch. He knew if he drew his sword he was committing himself to instant death too and while his life wasn’t that important, Evie’s was and the baby’s was. He heard Barro uselessly swipe with his sword and soon enough the clang of the weapon being flung to the ground, then the terrible sound of Barro choking.

Hopelessly, Corbel doubled over, groaning. Piven was as twisted by his return to sanity and by the arrival of his magic as everyone had feared.

Stracker was laughing at him. Stracker couldn’t know for a moment the anxiety that riddled Corbel’s every waking moment, had been with him for ten long anni, since Brennus had put the newborn princes into his care. And so to the sound of Barro’s death throes Corbel finally let his emotion bubble up. As Barro made his last struggled gasp beneath the suffocating and inhuman strength of Greven’s hands, Corbel de Vis emptied his belly in a show of utter powerlessness.

Piven shifted his attention back to Valya. “Is this a jest?”

“I . . . I don’t understand,” Valya warbled.

Stracker drew his sword with relish as Piven advanced on her. “Do you really think me stupid? I know my princess sister is ten anni. Don’t try and fob me off with some whore’s brat!” He grabbed the bundle from her and Valya screamed as he carelessly handed it to his third companion, who looked the most shocked of all.

Corbel watched the man look around, unsure, and then place the child on the ground. At least the baby was unharmed for now. He snapped his attention back to Piven, who was standing over Valya as she crawled toward Stracker.

“Stracker! She’s your niece!” she cried. “She’s Loethar’s child. Don’t you see, she must have the—”

“You gambled and lost, Valya!” Piven hurled across her words.

Valya screamed and changed direction, throwing herself at Piven. Stracker wasted not a moment, hacking Valya’s head from her body with one vicious cleave of his sword. Corbel groaned as her warm blood hit his face and her head rolled to where he was bent, stopping to stare sightlessly at him, her lips the perfect color for her bloodied end. Her headless corpse lay hunched over the sleeping child and he realized sadly she had not been lunging at Piven but was trying to reach her baby. She may have been a wicked woman but she had also been a mother who loved her child even when she knew their fate was hopeless.

Corbel, no longer able to contain his rage, straightened, his gaze scorching a path to Piven.

But there was a new look on Piven’s face now, one of pure amazement.

“Corbel de Vis?” he murmured in a mixture of delight and alarm. “Is that really you? You look so old!”

Corbel realized the disguise was destroyed; in his anger he’d forgotten about the tiny spell-infused bead and it had come out when he had retched.

There was no point in denying it. “Yes, it’s me, Piven, and it seems I’m not the only one who has changed.”

“De Vis!” Stracker roared. In a flash of understanding Corbel realized that no matter how quickly he drew his own sword against Stracker’s already drawn and bloodied one, only magic could save him now . . . and he had no aegis.

“Die like your pathetic father did,” Stracker roared and brought his huge, heavy blade down toward Corbel’s head.

Everything had happened so fast for the audience in the convent that there was a moment of silence so complete they could all hear the soft sound of a bird calling to its mate.

And then pandemonium ensued. Gavriel howled a sound of pure desolation and ripped open the door of the convent, drawing the sword at his side in a smooth movement as he ran out, yelling in rage.

“Stracker!” he howled.

Piven seemed to be staring in shock at Corbel, who was prone on the ground with a gaping wound in his side. It turned out that even in that moment of impending death, Corbel had twisted his body enough for Stracker’s huge blow to miss its target. But it still had made enough mess of Corbel that Gavriel could tell in a glance that he was as good as dead, lying there in a pool of his own blood mixing with the already drying blood of Valya.

Suddenly Piven’s head snapped up. “Gavriel!” he said.

But Gavriel was already advancing on Stracker, a sound of rage issuing from his throat.

It was Greven who moved though, raising his hand. Gavriel instantly found himself unable to shift a limb. Stracker too seemed to be suspended in the motion of realization, his bloodied sword halfway up to his shoulder again.

“Piven,” Greven began and then he shrugged. “This is my magic. I can paralyze, usually for only a few moments but I believe the awakening of the aegis magic has intensified my abilities. I gave my word to my wife on her deathbed that I would never use them again and I have not until this moment. I realize all it takes is your word and I will have no choice but to release these two, but is this really what you want? You are happy for Stracker to fight Gavriel de Vis, your childhood friend?”

Piven looked at Gavriel. “I have no fight with Gavriel.”

Gavriel tried desperately to speak or move but was unable to do either.

“But somehow I don’t think Gavriel will rest until his brother’s death is avenged.” Corbel groaned from the ground, and Piven looked down at him. “I’m sorry, Corbel. Had I known that was you in disguise . . . if I had reacted faster . . .”

“Burn in hell, Piven,” Corbel choked out and that seemed to sap his dwindling reserve of life. His head slumped back down.

Piven’s expression became a grimace of cold fury. “Stracker, what you did to Valya is your business. I’m glad the woman is no longer so much as looking at me. As for the child, that already looks half dead. It’s of no consequence to me but I see poor Corbel felt a duty of care toward it. Typical Corbel. He always did fight for the underdog, which is why he was always good to me. Both the de Vis twins were good to me and I’m struggling to find a reason to let you live, Stracker.”

“He is not yours to kill! His head is mine!” said a new voice, almost softly spoken.

Piven’s face changed from anger to delight. His accompanying clap of pleasure was drowned by the murmuring rippling through the Greens as their king and their new land’s emperor walked out without a weapon, a boy following him.

“Loethar!” Piven exclaimed. “How many more surprises wait behind that gate? It’s like the traveling show that Greven used to take me to as a lad. Every time the curtain was pulled back, another treat was in store. And there is no better treat than to see you.”

“Greetings, Piven,” Loethar said calmly. “Does Corbel live?”

“Just,” he remarked, with what sounded like genuine sorrow. “But not for long.”

“Release de Vis. You have no argument with him. Let him take his brother inside and have a moment with him. You can do that much, surely?”

“I could but why would I?”

“So you can watch my half-brother and I fight to the death. It’s been a long time coming.”

Piven blinked. “Answer me this, Loethar. I am puzzled. I feel Valisar magic radiating off you. I see a child standing behind you, not that much younger than me. Am I adding up correctly?”

“Your father not only hid your birth, nephew, but he hid mine as well. He and I share Darros as a father.”

Piven erupted into gleeful laughter. “My uncle? You are my uncle?” His tone was laced with wonder.

Loethar’s face showed no trace of amusement.

“Oh, this is precious!” Piven said, almost hugging himself with delight. “And the boy is your aegis, of course?”

“He is. This is Roddy. He is every fiber as powerful as Greven so we might as well accept that we cannot hurt each other.”

Piven nodded. “A dilemma indeed for I want you dead, Loethar.”

“I am not here to destroy you. But I will kill Stracker. He has killed my mother, my wife—”

“Oh, Lo! Don’t tell me that was your child as well?” Piven exclaimed dryly. And then laughed.

Loethar’s eyes turned to slits. “What?”

“The baby,” Piven pointed. “She was bargaining with a baby.”

Loethar felt suddenly unsteady. “What . . . ?” He couldn’t finish his question.

“Beneath her body,” Piven said, offhandedly.

First Loethar bent to Corbel. “Hold on, de Vis.”

And then he reached for Valya, barely sparing her more than the time it took him to shove her corpse aside to reveal the baby Piven had spoken about. With a look of dismay, he lifted the child’s limp, lifeless form; the baby looked dead too.

He gave a tight sob. “What is this?” he said, feeling as though he were unable to breathe.

“Your daughter,” Corbel choked out, blood still oozing from the wound, his death clearly slow and painful.

And Loethar understood everything. Even in death Valya’s cunning didn’t fail to make him catch his breath. It seemed his Ciara had been weak enough that everyone had assumed the worst, but she hadn’t succumbed immediately. He raised his head to the skies and let out such a roar of anguish that Vulpan nearby stepped back into the carriage, while Jewd and Kilt hesitated at the doorway, obviously more concerned for Loethar than for their own presence being revealed.

Loethar buried his face into the tiny corpse for a few heartbreaking moments before he straightened and re-organized his expression to hide the naked emotion behind a mask of hate. When he spoke his voice, though raw, was even.

“Captain Gorin.”

“Yes, emperor.”

“Call me Loethar as you did on the Steppes.”

“Yes, Loethar?”

“Have the Greens fall back.”

“General Stracker—”

“Whatever General Stracker commanded is now of no weight or concern. General Stracker will be dead shortly. The Greens will bear witness to his demise and understand that this is what happens to any tribal man who challenges my authority. Is this clear?”

The captain licked his lips nervously but nodded. “Yes, Loethar.”

And then in the Steppes language Loethar spoke only to his people: “I renounce my status as emperor but not as king of the Steppes,” he roared, the magic swirling around him, magnifying the sound so that all the soldiers could hear him clearly. “Do the Greens acknowledge that?”

A roar of sound came back in a language only the Steppes-born could understand.

He continued. “Bear witness, Greens. And then return to your own. Take with you your families and your friends and head east. The tribes are returning to the Steppes. Those who wish to remain in the place they now call home may do so without threat of recrimination. But there will be no barbarian guard from today but an integrated Set and Steppes army to be known as the Imperial Fist. You may choose to belong to it or you may choose to go.”

Now a huge roar went up; swords were shaken in the air and the very ground vibrated with their sound of appreciation.

Loethar looked back at Piven. “They should never have been brought here or involved.”

“It wasn’t my idea.”

“I gathered as much.”

“What did you just tell them?”

“Nothing important. They are no threat to anyone here, though. Will you release Gavriel?”

“Will you make the fight more fair? Vulpan and I are desperate for some entertainment.”

“Certainly. Roddy, release all protective magic around me.”

“No, Loethar!” came several voices.

Piven laughed. “Your friends over there disagree.”

“Listen to me, all of you,” Loethar called out. “When I fight Stracker it will be man to man, no magic involved. If anyone gets involved, I will kill him too.” He swung back to Piven. “Now release de Vis so he can take his brother in to die.”

Piven glanced at Greven and Gavriel could instantly move again. He let out a growl of despair and was on the ground next to Corbel in one leap.

“Corbel? . . . Corbel!”

“Too late, Gav,” his brother croaked.

“Help him,” Loethar called to his companions and Jewd ran quickly out to assist Gavriel, who was openly crying now.

“So help me—” Gavriel began, staring at Loethar.

“It will be done,” Loethar said, nodding as he understood what Gavriel wanted. “Please hold my child; I will mourn her and bury her later. But take Corbel to the woman he loves. She will want to lay hands on him before it’s too late to say farewell.” Gavriel seemed to understand instantly the message and urged Jewd to hurry, taking the lifeless bundle with reverence and nodding at Loethar before he hurried after Jewd and Corbel.

“Before we proceed,” Piven said, “I have some questions for you.”

*  *  *

As they shuffled inside the compound under the horrified gaze of Lily and Kilt, standing with his arm protectively around her, they all saw Evie arrive with Ravan. She stifled part of her scream but no one outside seemed to care anyway. Her eyes widened with shock and distress.

“He’s dying, Evie,” Gavriel begged.

She rushed to where they laid him down. “I can save him. I can! I can!” she promised, her voice rising to a snarl. “Corbel, Corbel, it’s Evie.” She kissed his cheek and kissed his hand, which she then put against her own cheek. “I’m here. You’re going to be fine. Just let go now. I can feel it. I can feel death coming but I’m going to chase it away. You just have to relax. Can you hear me, Reg? Reg!” she said through helpless tears, her expression distraught. “I can’t help unless you let your life go. But I’ll bring you back. You know I will.”

Lily was weeping and had turned into Jewd’s big arms for solace; Kilt was looking on helplessly, his face a mask; Gavriel was not winning the battle against his own tears and only Ravan stood by stoically, his expression concerned but even.

“He’s slipping away,” she said, her hands stained with his blood. “He’s not letting go. I can’t do it until he gives in.”

“Do what she says, Corb!” Gavriel pleaded.

Corbel de Vis’s eyes flickered open. “Evie,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you.”

“I know, I know you do,” she said, crying helplessly now. “And I love you.”

“But not how I want,” Corbel croaked.

“Oh, Reg, please, not now,” she begged.

“We both know it,” he said. She sobbed and he tried to smile in comfort but he failed; all he managed was a twitch at the corner of his mouth. He stroked her face. “I do not give you my permission to save me.”

“No!” she said, shaking her head. “You will not die.”

“It is my wish. And you have a responsibility as a doctor to follow my instructions.”

“As a doctor I must preserve life!”

“Not with magic,” he choked out and coughed as blood exploded from the wound.

She wept harder.

Corbel struggled to pull her close. She bent down to him. “I have had the best of your life and you mine. Let me go, Evie. I want to. I have been sad all my life . . . and I am tired of it.”

She sat back and he nodded and she seemed to understand. He was already looking away, trying to find his brother. “Gav?”

“Corb—” But Gavriel couldn’t finish. He dissolved into a heartbroken silence.

“Mend everything,” Corbel sputtered. “Loethar’s trying. Help him.” Gavriel shook his head with anguish and bent his head low to his brother, who pulled him forward and whispered, “That Lily’s got great tits.”

Gavriel gave a teary, helpless laugh as he watched his brother finally let go. He shot a distraught look of disbelief at Evie.

“He’s gone.” She shook her head in anguish. Her lips were bloodless as she spoke. “He made me promise. But there is something I’m going to do,” she said in a hard voice, wiping her eyes. “I just have to work out how to do it.” And she stood up, helped by Ravan, letting the arm of Corbel de Vis slump dead to the ground as she stomped away, crying wretchedly.

Outside, Piven nodded. “Intriguing, but thank you for your candor,” he said to Loethar. Stracker was nearby, still suspended and seething. “But you and I are at a stalemate. We are like kings on a chessboard. We could keep moving around each other forever.”

“Something has to give?”

“Precisely.”

“Why don’t we let fate play her part?”

“All right and in the meantime you’re going to give up your magic and give us all a show with Stracker . . . am I right?”

“Yes. But with the caveat that should you try anything, Piven, Roddy will secure me and our fragile truce is broken.”

“I have no reason to break faith with you over this. Stracker is tiresome. He’s like an angry ox blundering through a bed of violets. He has no finesse, little subtlety and he understands only what he can achieve with his fists. I thought he could be useful but he is the opposite. Killing Corbel de Vis was his final indiscretion.”

“You don’t see Valya’s death as offensive?”

“Not at all. She was a rabid, obsessive liability and you are well rid of her. As for your child, I’m not sure what to say to that. I can’t say I’m sorry. One less Valisar is a good outcome.”

“You are yet to answer for that,” Loethar said gravely.

“Your child was already dead even as she unwrapped the rags around it. Smothered probably. Perhaps Valya had already slipped into madness.”

Loethar had to agree it did make sense. “Perhaps.”

They eyed each other in a difficult pause. “Let us deal with Stracker,” Loethar said. “The rest will take care of itself.”

Piven nodded and looked at Greven.

Stracker slumped with a loud sigh as he was released from the magic.

Marth moved closer to Leo. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m perfectly happy for Stracker to die.”

“But what if—”

“He won’t, Marth. I can feel Loethar’s anger. I can feel it fizzing through my own magic. Once this last little act has played out, we will announce ourselves and finish them all.”

“As you wish.”

“Make sure Narine is ready.”