"Then let's agree to complete our plans when you reach Swanholm."

And he was gone before she could ask any more questions, leaving her holding the letter of safe pa.s.sage.

Suddenly she felt so faint that she had to sit down. "Look at me, Faie, I'm shaking!" She touched the smooth waxen sheen of the imperial seal. How ironic that Eugene should be the one to offer them a safe haven.

Celestine handed over her key to the landlady and said good-bye to the cats. Then she walked to the square, hailed a carriage, and instructed the driver to take her to the Francian Emba.s.sy. As they rattled away, she took one last look back at the Imperial Theater, smiling as she remembered Grebin's parting words.

"Oh, I intend to come back," she said. That brief taste of the heady pleasures of performing onstage had given her a craving for more. But not yet; she was far more eager to see Jagu again and tell him the astonishing news. She checked again to make sure that the precious letter of safe pa.s.sage was still in her reticule.

Alighting outside the emba.s.sy, she hurried up the steps to be admitted by Claude.

"Has Lieutenant de Rustephan arrived yet?" she asked breathlessly.

"No, Demoiselle. But the amba.s.sador has received a communication for you. If you would follow me..." Claude's haughty expression gave nothing away as he showed her into Fabien d'Abrissard's study.

What manner of communication? Perhaps Jagu had been delayed.

"This is addressed to you, Celestine." The amba.s.sador rose to greet her, holding out a letter. She opened it and read: We have arrested your accomplice, Jagu de Rustephan. He will be executed for crimes against the state unless you give yourself up to Francian justice. You have one month in which to return to Lutece to answer the charges against you.

"They've taken Jagu. They've taken him back to Lutece!" This was the last thing she had expected. She sat down, the letter clutched in her hand. How had it all gone so wrong? Everything had been settled for the start of their new life together: the Emperor's letter of safe pa.s.sage to Tielen, the concert plans, Jagu's composition...

"My dear Celestine," said the amba.s.sador gravely, "you mustn't even think of going back to Lutece. The city's in a volatile state. Ilsevir is not popular. He's ordered his Rosecoeurs to stamp out any signs of rebellion or heresy. Aided, of course, by the Inquisition."

"Kilian." Celestine stared down at the letter, seeing the black script blur and waver as a teardrop splashed onto the ink. "Kilian, his oldest friend." What use is crying? What use is crying? she told herself angrily. she told herself angrily. I have to rescue him. I have to rescue him. Yet still the drops continued to fall. She looked up, dashing away the tears. "It's a trap. They've set a trap for me. They knew my weakness-and they're using it to lure me into their clutches." Yet still the drops continued to fall. She looked up, dashing away the tears. "It's a trap. They've set a trap for me. They knew my weakness-and they're using it to lure me into their clutches."

"All the more reason not to walk into their trap."

"But Jagu-"

"I can protect you here in Mirom, but the instant you leave these sh.o.r.es, you'll be fair game for the Inquisition."

Kaspar Linnaius's accusing words flashed through her memory.

Haven't you been pursuing the wrong man? Shouldn't you be seeking to take revenge on the man who condemned your father to the stake? Alois Visant?

In that one moment, she knew that the time for tears was over. Her chin went up. "I'm going to Swanholm," she said.

"Monsieur de Cormery, it's so kind of you to take time out of your busy schedule to accompany me to Tielen." Celestine gave him one of her sweetest smiles.

The young attache blushed. "It's-it's no trouble at all, Demoiselle, I a.s.sure you. Besides, in the circ.u.mstances, the amba.s.sador was adamant that you not travel alone, and as I was visiting Tielen on emba.s.sy affairs anyway..."

In truth, Celestine was genuinely grateful to have his company to distract her from her gloom. It was a terrible risk that she was taking, traveling to Swanholm, using up so many days of her one precious month-at the end of which Jagu would be executed.

She even feared that there might have been Francian agents at the customs house in Mirom, watching out for her. But here they were, safely on board a Tielen vessel, which was sailing slowly down the Nieva toward the Straits, and no one had approached her.

Weariness suddenly overwhelmed her and she felt herself sinking to the deck. She heard Cormery's alarmed cry and felt herself drowning in waves of dizziness.

She came to her senses to find Cormery bending anxiously over her, dabbing her temples with a balsam-impregnated handkerchief. The strong, sharp scent made her wrinkle her nose and sneeze.

"My dear demoiselle, are you all right? You had me quite worried, fainting so suddenly like that."

"I fainted?" Celestine made to sit up but her head swam, so she lay back again. "But I never never faint." She was disgusted with herself for such a show of weakness. To her embarra.s.sment, she realized that Cormery must have had the sailors carry her belowdecks to her cabin. "It's just that I haven't slept much in the last few days." She forced herself to sound more confident than she felt. "I'll be fine after a good night's rest." faint." She was disgusted with herself for such a show of weakness. To her embarra.s.sment, she realized that Cormery must have had the sailors carry her belowdecks to her cabin. "It's just that I haven't slept much in the last few days." She forced herself to sound more confident than she felt. "I'll be fine after a good night's rest."

"Then I'll leave you to it," said Cormery, looking a little more relieved. But as soon as he had gone, she closed her eyes and pressed the cold handkerchief to her forehead. She felt as if she were not entirely back in her body. The odd, light-headed sensation, floating between consciousness and unconsciousness, was disturbing.

"Faie," she called quietly, her eyes closed. "Why am I so weak? Am I ill?"

"I fear it is all my fault," came back the soft reply. came back the soft reply. "Kaspar Linnaius was right; your body is not strong enough to sustain the two of us. I am using up too much of your life essence." "Kaspar Linnaius was right; your body is not strong enough to sustain the two of us. I am using up too much of your life essence."

"Too much? But I've never needed your protection more than I do now. How am I to rescue Jagu if you aren't there to help me?"

"I will return to the book to give your body time to recover."

Though as the ship reached the open sea, Celestine lay awake long into the night, unable to sleep for the thoughts jostling in her brain. Was Linnaius right after all? Was the Faie putting too much strain on her body every time she used her powers to disguise or defend herself? Or was he just trying to trick her?

"What am I doing here?" Alain Friard wondered as he followed his superior officers into the king's council chamber. He was surprised that the new king had included him in this private meeting, and even more surprised that Hugues Donatien had not tried to prevent him from attending. He slunk in behind Donatien, taking a place at the most obscure end of the council table. Haute Inquisitor Visant sat opposite Girim nel Ghislain, the leader of the Order of the Rosecoeurs. "Gentlemen, we need to convince the people of Francia that you are winning the fight against the forces of evil," King Ilsevir said as he took his seat at the head of the table. "We need to restore confidence in the church. Many people saw the Drakhaouls at large in the city. Some are even saying they saw Enguerrand being abducted by a daemon. The general opinion seems to be that the Commanderie is not strong enough to protect Lutece."

Visant's secretary was scribbling away busily, taking notes as the king spoke.

"I don't deny that the Commanderie lost the people's confidence when Kaspar Linnaius was rescued from the stake," said Maistre Donatien. "Too many lives were lost in the panic that day."

"And since the sordid case of Ruaud de Lanvaux's murder, the Commanderie's reputation has sunk even lower," observed Visant acidly. Friard wanted to speak up on behalf of his men, but one glance at the king's face told him it was best to keep silent. "Though, if I might make a suggestion... it has come to our attention that there is treachery at the heart of the Commanderie itself. Two of the late Maistre's most trusted agents have betrayed the cause. We have proof. We have witnesses."

Friard was dreading to hear what was coming next.

"We must root out any sign of treachery, no matter how painful it may be," said Ilsevir sternly. "Bring these agents in and let them be tried. Who are they?"

"Celestine de Joyeuse," said Visant, "and Jagu de Rustephan."

Friard clenched his fists beneath the table. Two of his most loyal comrades in arms. One by one, all Ruaud's elite squad were being eliminated.

"I know those names..." A faraway look came into Ilsevir's eyes. "The musicians who saved our lives at the opening of the Azilis chapel? Surely you're mistaken, Inquisitor?"

"The evidence against Demoiselle de Joyeuse is too compelling. As for Lieutenant de Rustephan"-Visant turned to Maistre Donatien- "is there any news yet?"

"When the lieutenant did not report back, I sent Kilian Guyomard to Muscobar to investigate. I'm pleased to report that he has arrested him and is bringing him back to Lutece by sea."

"So you plan to use him as bait to lure Demoiselle de Joyeuse to his rescue?" Visant nodded his approval.

Friard could take no more. He stood up. "P-pardon me, your majesty," he stammered, staring at Donatien as he spoke, "but when has it been Commanderie practice to condemn one of our own without anything other than hearsay to go on?"

"Are you challenging my authority, Captain Friard?" Visant's stare chilled Friard to the bone, yet he stood his ground, determined not to be intimidated.

"I'm defending my Guerriers, Inquisitor. I don't want to see two good and loyal agents used as scapegoats."

"Let's not argue among ourselves, gentlemen," said Ilsevir smoothly. "We must rea.s.sure the people by showing them that we are working together to defeat our enemies. I'm sure you'd be the first to agree that is our priority, Captain Friard? And to that end, I'd like to unite the two branches of the Commanderie."

Friard stared at the king, then at Donatien, who was smiling and nodding his approval.

"Maistre Donatien will be head of the new Commanderie, with Captains Friard and Ghislain as his subordinates. But Captain Friard, you will need to liaise with Captain nel Ghislain as I intend to combine the two branches into one under the sign of the Rosecoeur."

"Maistre, did you approve this?" Friard appealed to Donatien.

"Indeed, I did," Donatien said calmly. "The Rosecoeurs' methods have been so much more successful than our own, especially in Ondhessar. You have much to learn from Captain nel Ghislain."

Humiliated, Friard sat down. Everything that Ruaud de Lanvaux had worked for was being swept away by this relentless Allegondan tide. He was more certain than ever that the charges against Celestine and Jagu were false. Had Kilian defected to Donatien's side? He had never been able to read Kilian accurately, suspecting a devious mind at work behind his joking, easygoing manner. But the greatest betrayal of all was that of Hugues Donatien.

As the effects of the drug slowly wore off, Jagu-confined to his cramped cabin-had too much time alone to regret what had happened. He lay gazing at the wooden walls, cursing his trusting nature. Why did I fall for Kilian's trick? Am I still so gullible? Why did I fall for Kilian's trick? Am I still so gullible?

The truth was that he had been so caught up in his feelings that he had been careless. To be in love was such a new and unexpected state of mind that he had let his guard down.

But what was the worst they could do to him for breaking his vow? Flog him? Expel him from the order? Imprison him? He could endure all that and more if only he knew that Celestine was safe. But the nagging fear that grew ever-more disturbing, like thunderclouds looming on the horizon, was that Visant and Donatien merely planned to use him to get to her.

CHAPTER 5.

"So the fashioning of this new Lodestar took you three years?" Sardion turned the lotus crystal over and over in his hands while Rieuk watched, hating to see the Arkhan's fingers polluting the purity of his handiwork. It was all he could do not to s.n.a.t.c.h it back. "It's very fine. Almost as fine as the original." He placed it in an ebony casket on his desk. "But matters have changed since you went into the Rift. You've seen him for yourself, haven't you?"

Rieuk was still staring at the casket that contained his Lodestar.

"Prince Nagazdiel." Sardion's eyes gleamed with that hungry light Rieuk had learned to hate. "He has come to us at last."

"To us?" Rieuk echoed uneasily.

"For years without number, my family has waited for him to return. But our mortal bodies are too frail to withstand the atmosphere of the Rift. That is why I'm sending you, as my Emissary, to bring him to me."

"Me?" Rieuk could not believe what he was hearing. Sardion wanted him to return to the Rift? "But how?"

"By offering him your body as his vessel. He's an aethyrial spirit like the other Drakhaouls; he cannot exist in the mortal world without a host of flesh and blood."

"You want me to give him my body?"

"You're the most powerful of all my magi, Rieuk. Others have tried and failed. The last I sent in was Oranir. I judged him stronger than the others... but he's yet to return."

"You sent Oranir into the Rift to look for Nagazdiel?" It was all Rieuk could do to control his anger.

"You still harbor feelings for that boy, even though he betrayed you?" A slow, cruel smile spread across Sardion's gaunt features. "What a fool you are."

Sardion led Rieuk deep below the palace, through a maze of pa.s.sageways that ended in a forbidding chamber lined in black marble. An ancient doorway loomed beyond. The Arkhan cut a small nick in his wrist, and then in Rieuk's, smearing their mingled drops of blood on the stone. The doorway slowly opened with a grinding sound, letting a gust of chill air into the chamber.

"This is an honor afforded only to the chosen few," Sardion said, standing aside. "I shall await your return with impatience."

So I'm a fool. Rieuk stumbled onward through the gloom. Rieuk stumbled onward through the gloom. I don't know-or care-what's been happening in Sardion's court in the time I've been away. But I can't forget the years I spent traveling with Oranir. He'll always hold a place in my heart, no matter how many times he betrays me. And that's something, Lord Sardion, that you'll never understand. I don't know-or care-what's been happening in Sardion's court in the time I've been away. But I can't forget the years I spent traveling with Oranir. He'll always hold a place in my heart, no matter how many times he betrays me. And that's something, Lord Sardion, that you'll never understand.

All that he could hear was the rushing of the dust-ridden wind that had blown in from the Realm of Shadows, bringing the deathly taint that leached the life from everything it touched.

"Where are you, Oranir?" he shouted into the wind, but it only tossed his own words back to him. "Ormas, can you sense Zophas here?"

"I can sense nothing..." came back the faint reply.

Walking blind into the gale, he suddenly stumbled over something in his path. A man lay sprawled on the dusty ground. Gently turning him over he saw, to his anguish, that it was Oranir.

"Ran." He cradled him in his arms, Oranir's dark head slumping against his shoulder. He had only ever called Oranir by that affectionate nickname when they were alone together. "Ran!" "Ran!" The young magus was unconscious but his body was still warm; when Rieuk anxiously pressed his fingertips to his wrist and throat, he detected a faint, slow pulse. The young magus was unconscious but his body was still warm; when Rieuk anxiously pressed his fingertips to his wrist and throat, he detected a faint, slow pulse.

"You're still alive." Rieuk held him close. He didn't care that Oranir had betrayed him; this chance to see him, to hold him in his arms again, was worth more to him than any worldly reward. And then the truth of Oranir's condition began to sink in. "Alive, but for how long? How long have you lain unconscious down here? And how am I to get you out?"

Rieuk pulled open Oranir's robes and loose shirt, until he could place his hand on the smoke hawk tattooed into Oranir's olive skin. He sensed a faint pulsation, as if Zophas were dozing deep within his master.

Time has no meaning in the Rift. The atmosphere might even have preserved Oranir's life. But if he took him back to the surface, the sudden change might kill him. Rieuk knelt in the eerie half-light with Oranir's head in his lap, absently stroking the long strands of dusty black hair from his forehead, not knowing what to do to save his life. The atmosphere might even have preserved Oranir's life. But if he took him back to the surface, the sudden change might kill him. Rieuk knelt in the eerie half-light with Oranir's head in his lap, absently stroking the long strands of dusty black hair from his forehead, not knowing what to do to save his life.

Then he sensed it: that dark, disturbing aura he had encountered here before. The shadowy air shimmered. He raised his head to see the Drakhaoul Nagazdiel gazing down at him.

"He is strong, this young magus," said Nagazdiel in his soft, deep voice, which made Rieuk shiver, "but not strong enough to give me back my freedom."

"What did you do to him?" Rieuk choked over the words.

"I took possession of his body. But the strain was too great; he could not sustain me."

"No." Rieuk clutched Oranir to him, overcome with grief. "Ran, my poor Ran..." The Drakhaoul must have entered Oranir's body, draining him of his life essence to gain new strength.

"He is one of her her children; she could restore him, if she were here. But he is weak and his hawk is weaker still." children; she could restore him, if she were here. But he is weak and his hawk is weaker still."

"She, my lord?" Rieuk raised his head from Oranir's. my lord?" Rieuk raised his head from Oranir's.

"My daughter, Azilis."

"Your daughter could heal Oranir?"

"She should be here." Nagazdiel gazed around him at the moonless waste of dying trees. "I came searching for her. I must find her." He turned back to Rieuk. "You will take me to find her. We will bring her back together." It was a command and not one to be disobeyed.

Rieuk laid Oranir gently down again and rose unsteadily to his feet. "I offer you my body, my lord Nagazdiel, if you will accept it." He had no idea whether he was resilient enough to host a Drakhaoul, but he knew that while there was a crumb of hope of saving Oranir's life, he was prepared to risk it.

Nagazdiel came toward him, his arms open wide, as if to embrace him. Fire and shadow swirled up around Rieuk, engulfing him in a smoke-shot cloud. His body burned as if he had swallowed liquid fire.

Suppose I'm too weak to host him... he's so powerful...

"This fusion suits me well," breathed Nagazdiel's voice within him. breathed Nagazdiel's voice within him. "Now take me to find my daughter. "Now take me to find my daughter."

CHAPTER 6.