"No, Sir King; the news is too urgent. I come from the Royal Archers, near the river."

"Invasion?"

"Not exactly..." The man handed him a scroll; Kieri broke the seal and unrolled it.

"You might as well have a hot drink while I read," Kieri said. "There's sib in the pot." He scanned the terse report. Someone had come across the river at night; a Royal Archers' patrol had taken him in custody. Though dressed like a fisherman, he claimed to be the king of Pargun. He had no proof of his claim; he might be crazy, the Royal Archer officer had written, but he carried himself like one used to command.

"Did you see the man?" Kieri asked the courier.

The man swallowed hastily. "Yes, Sir King. But I have never seen the king of Pargun, so I cannot say-"

"He swam, or came in a boat?"

"A boat."

It made no sense. Why would the king of Pargun-if it was he-sneak across the river at night? To spy? He must have spies; he would not need to spy himself. If he wanted to visit Lyonya-see his daughter, perhaps?-why not come openly, with an entourage?

"Did he say more?"

"I don't know, Sir King. The captain bade me ride with all speed; I left as soon as the captain had written that message."

"If he is the king-or the king's envoy-then I must know his purpose quickly."

"You cannot risk yourself-" one of his Squires said.

"He doesn't know my face any more than I know his," Kieri said. Surely he could ride north as fast as this messenger had come south, and surely the Pargunese-whoever he was-would not know how fast he could ride. "Aulin, tell Garris that I will need an escort of King's Squires, those well rested and able to ride at once for the river. Then tell the Master of Horse we will need remounts, as well as mounts saddled, and someone to care for them."

In less than a gla.s.s they were on their way, riding on a forest track Kieri had not seen before. Kieri wore hunting clothes without royal insignia; the King's Squires wore plain tunics in place of the royal tabards.

When he arrived at the Royal Archers' bivouac, a turn of the gla.s.s after sending in a Squire to warn the Archers he was incognito, their captain greeted him only as "my lord." Kieri nodded and looked around the camp until he spotted a burly man sitting against a tree, two Royal Archers nearby watching.

The prisoner wore a fisherman's rough smock, short trousers, and striped stockings; his boots were piled with his other possessions in the boat in which he'd come, now pulled up away from the water. His light hair-blond going gray-and pale blue eyes were common to many in the north, and his face and hands were sun-marked like those of men who worked outdoors all the time. The only indication of kingship was the gold ring with its seal, but his eyes reminded Kieri of Elis.

"He says if we kill him, there will be war and Lyonya will be burnt to ash," the captain said.

"I'm not planning to kill him," Kieri said. "Unless I have to. He might be a simple fisherman who's had river fever and merely thinks he's a king." Unlikely, but possible.

"With that ring?"

"Or a thief. Every realm has thieves, even Pargun." Kieri ignored the man, instead inspecting the boat and its contents. The boots had spur scuffs on the heels. He shook them. "Did you turn these out?"

"No, my lord. We saw the ring. The man's gabble sounded Pargunese; we thought you should see first."

Kieri upended the boots into the boat, shaking vigorously. Out fell a small knife in a sheath and four silver Tsaian coronets.

"He had eight coppers in his belt-pouch, my lord. Two with a Prealith mark, one of ours, the rest from Tsaia."

Currencies mingled in river towns; that fit the character of a fisherman. Kieri felt inside the boots: nothing more. He pulled the knife from its sheath, watching the prisoner. The man's face showed no expression. The blade showed a dark stain, as if it had been dipped in some liquid, since dried. Poison, possibly. Kieri put it back in its sheath. The boot heels next-he twisted. One turned, revealing a small compartment. Inside was an oiled-leather packet marked with runes. Kieri tipped that out without touching it; poisons could be carried in such packets. Next he emptied the pack. In that were clothes more suited to a peddler than a fisherman, a box of trinkets-mostly small religious charms-and enough food for a few days' travel.

"When did you capture him?" he asked. He knew already, but the captive didn't know that.

"Three nights agone, my lord. We sent word to you-we thought the king should know."

"Word has been sent," Kieri said. He put down the box on top of the other things, picked up the small knife, and walked over to the captive. He could feel the man's anger and loathing as if it were visible waves of color. "He has been given food? You know the king's orders about that-?"

"Yes, my lord. Food, water, and a blanket at night, though we dared not unbind him in the dark."

Kieri squatted down in front of the captive. In Pargunese he said, "This is not a fisherman's knife. It is not the knife for gutting, or the knife for scaling, or the knife for filleting. With this knife, you would only poison a fish and make it unfit to eat. Why would a fisherman poison a fish?"

The man spat, but the gob of spit did not reach Kieri. Then the man looked away.

Still in Pargunese, Kieri said. "If I were minded to kill you, you would be dead already. If I were minded to hurt you, your flesh would already be torn. You claim to be a king in your own land-what are you doing here?"

The man looked at him again. In Pargunese he said, "Your king stole my daughter."

Kieri's brows went up. "Our king steals no women. And why would a king who believed such come himself and not send envoys or an army?"

"Envoys were with her; they came back without her. Stolen away, she was, sent to a brothel, a house of soldiers. That is not a matter for armies; that is a matter for a man of honor to meet her betrayer man to man. I must feel his blood hot on my hands myself; I must pull his guts from his living body myself." Fury flamed in those pale eyes.

"You intend to kill Lyonya's king," Kieri said. It scarcely seemed possible that an a.s.sa.s.sin would admit his intent so baldly. And the accusations-he could not take them in: they were unbelievable.

"And display his villainy for all to see," the man said. He seemed absolutely certain and, though angry, perfectly sane. "He debauched his own soldiers, and yet Tsaia would not denounce him. Even the Girdish, prigs that they are, made no complaints of him." He spat again, but this time more politely, to one side.

"I did not know this," Kieri said. He had never fully understood the Pargunese hatred for him personally; it had been a fact of his adult life, and nothing more.

The man nodded sharply. "None of you mageborn treat women with real respect," he said. Kieri heard a stir behind him and put up his hand; no one said anything. He nodded to the man, who after a look around shrugged and went on. "Your king," he said, squirming a little as if to settle into a more comfortable position for a long tale. "He held land in northern Tsaia; that you surely know." Kieri nodded. "He had a mercenary company before-perhaps you know that." Kieri nodded again. "Well, then. I know that in other lands, women train in weapons skills. So also a few of ours; it is not good, but it need not be an offense to the G.o.ds. Your king-your king-sent men out to find girls, young girls who knew nothing of weapons or war, and brought them to his stronghold. Far from their families, far from any protection of their kin, and there-there his soldiers took what pleasure they wanted."

Kieri fought down the urge to defend himself, explain. If this was what the Pargunese believed, then perhaps their enmity made sense of a sort.

"They became soldiers-they had to, to survive; they could not go home after such disgrace. Living among men not their families, alone-what else could they do but wh.o.r.e and fight?"

Kieri made an indeterminate sound, and as he hoped, the man went on.

"Never to marry, never to bear children for their family's honor, forever ruined-and yet, and yet yet, you gave him the crown. How you could endure such-"

"So how did he get your daughter?" Kieri asked.

The man grimaced. "He seduced her long ago, I fear. She was always rebellious; I blame her mother, who was from Kostandan, where women are allowed too much freedom. Her mother learned obedience before her death, but there is something in the blood. At any rate, my daughter would learn weapons lore from her brothers, and was happier on a horse than afoot."

"Pargun breeds good horses," Kieri said.

"Horses are well enough," the man said, "but ships are a man's wealth. It is by ships we know the most of your king's behavior. In far Aarenis, which no one else in the north regards, our captains visit every port, and there they have seen your king's soldiers, men and women alike, walking bare-legged in the marketplace. They bear themselves like harlots, those women-shameless and proud."

"Still..." Kieri said, letting his voice trail off.

"Your king is unmarried," the man said. "It is said he was married before, to one of his own soldiers, who bore his children. But he left her alone in the north, and she was killed because he did not protect her. Even so, as a king, I thought he must be surrounded by those who would keep him from such vileness. So, with due care, I sent my rebellious daughter to his court. If he married her, and proved honorable, it might bring peace to the north. She alone of my daughters might, I thought, be less apt for his abuse. If he insisted she ride and hunt...well, she would not mind so much."

Kieri stood up. "You must come to Chaya," he said, "and see the king."

"As a prisoner?" the man said. "To be killed like any common criminal? If that is your notion of honor, kill me here. Boast to your king of it, then. My brothers and sons wait across the river; they will avenge me and my daughter."

Kieri had not imagined this as his first meeting with the king of Pargun. "The king may not kill you," he said. "But you must make your accusations formally, in front of witnesses, and you will want to see your daughter-"

"I do not want to see her as she is now," the man said. "If I see her I must kill her, for her honor and mine." His eyes blurred with tears suddenly, the first emotion he'd shown other than anger. "You-if you do not have daughters, you cannot imagine what it is-those little soft faces, little flowers, we call them. Hers was as bright as any-she was willful as the early spring flowers that push through snow and will not droop or fold for frost or wind. We quarreled much as she grew older-but when she still had milk teeth and would climb into my lap..." The man shook his head.

"I, too, lost a daughter," Kieri said. He shut his eyes on the memory of Estil in his own lap.

"But not to such dishonor, I will guess," the man said. "My daughter's life is my pain, not her death."

"You must come to Chaya and meet our king," Kieri said again. "I thought at first you were a fisherman mind-mazed by fever or some demon, but now I think you may indeed be the king of Pargun. But since you came not openly in your own person, with proof of your ident.i.ty, I am bound to send you thither a prisoner, though I will tell these men to treat you with respect."

"When I am dead, these trees will burn," the man said. "My army-"

"Do you wish to send word to them what happened and where you are going?"

"No. They have their orders. I have time enough to reach Chaya and your king, kill him, and return. If I do not, they will attack."

This was not what Kieri wanted to hear. He turned to the others and said in Common, "I now believe this man is indeed the king of Pargun." The king of Pargun undoubtedly knew more Common than he was comfortable speaking; he expected the man to understand. "He has a grievance against our king because of the matter of the princess. He must be taken to Chaya under close guard, but with all due respect. I will send horses, and send messages to Chaya, that the king's Council be prepared. Take all his things with him. One of you come with me."

Kieri mounted and rode off, meeting his Squires out of sight of the clearing. At a hand gallop, he rode for the reserve cohort, and explained that an attack might come at any time. "I need eight of your reserve horses: send them with this Archer, who will show the way. The king of Pargun must be conveyed safely-and swiftly-to Chaya. With not a word to him about me or his daughter, whatever you know or think you know."

"At once, Sir King." The cohort's captain had men and horses ready with commendable speed. "And?"

"Word to all near the river. The Royal Archers will inform the rangers. The Pargunese plan to fire the forest, burn Lyonya to the bare ground. They must come by boat; the Royal Archers and rangers should be able to cut their numbers, unless they come at night and cannot be seen...which is exactly what they'll do. I must go."

As he rode for Chaya, he tried to think what else to do. The Sagon of the west would be there of a certainty. Would they strip their eastern and northern borders as well? How many troops could they muster, and how fast? How many boats would they have ready? And how could he convince the king that he had not despoiled Elis? Without risking her life?

All this because he had let that wicked old woman Hanlin think he wanted peace. He did want peace-that was no lie-but he did not want the peace of defeat.

He changed horses at the first relay station, riding on through the night as Elis herself had, but with more awareness. If he had known the Pargunese thought women soldiers were all nothing more than wh.o.r.es for the men...if he had known the king would think an entry to Falk's Hall was a disgrace and not an honor...what else could he have done?

They were insane, the Pargunese. They had strong women and destroyed them, just for the men's pride...how was that honorable? He tried to imagine the king of Pargun and his grandmother talking...surely an elven lady could convince the man that strong women were not dishonorable. That imagined image dissolved as it came: the king of Pargun would believe he had been managed with elven magery, and he would never agree.

Another relay point-he chuckled as he remembered that he'd thought he wouldn't need so many personal mounts. Through the night, he found himself thinking of one mistake after another he'd made since he became king. Most, he knew, were trivial, and he'd corrected them, but this-this one could plunge his realm into war.

At the third relay point, near dawn, he stopped to eat; his Squires looked less tired than he felt, but not as alert as usual. He had explained to them, while riding, what the king of Pargun thought. They'd been shocked, first angry and then thoughtful, as he was. Now, after the meal, he shook his head when one of them stood. "We will rest until the sun is two hands higher," he said. He stretched out on the ground, feeling the healthy life beneath and around him, and fell asleep at once.

He woke before his Squires; the rangers at the relay station had more food ready, and he drank and ate before they were off again. Kieri thought about the taig, and what the Kuakgan had done the night of the battle. He had "roused the taig," Paks said, and the Pargunese had been afraid to enter the trees.

Could he do something like that along the river and inland? Make the forest impa.s.sable so the Pargunese could not reach it to burn it? Or did they have engines of war able to throw stones-or fire-the distance across the river? They traded all the way to Aarenis-he had not realized that-and so their captains would have seen such engines.

Back in Chaya, he collected his Council at once, adding several of the elves not usually part of it. He outlined the situation.

"They think you sent her to a brothel brothel? Falk's Hall?"

"He has no conception of a woman choosing to be a soldier, and being one, other than coercion and rape," Kieri said. "He knows I've commanded units with men and women both, which in their terms means the women are being exploited by the men."

"That's-obscene."

"I agree. But he sees our behavior as obscene."

"But-he sent the girl to you-"

"To kill me. That poisoned knife she gave me, you recall? It was meant for me, on our wedding night."

"G.o.ds! How can those people live?"

"I don't know," Kieri said. "But we must be ready to listen and try to understand if we do not want fires in our land. I'm sending to Halveric to come as soon as he can, house or no. I need whatever trained troops all of you have, as well. Untrained won't do: the Pargunese army is not a bunch of farm lads with sticks." He looked at the elves. "You must also help, if it comes to that. He has sworn to burn the forest to the mountains; I do not know enough yet about the taig to prevent it, without your aid."

"The Lady could convince him," one of the elves said.

Kieri shook his head. "I don't think so. His ideas are so fixed-he would believe it was all magery and not listen to her reasons."

"And you think he will listen to yours?" the elf asked.

"He may not," Kieri said. "I will do what I can to persuade him...I don't intend to let him kill me...and I do not know if he will return home if he doesn't."

"It seems incredible that he would come alone, in disguise."

"Yes. I don't know why he did that, either. Everything they've done-sending the old lady, sending Elis without warning, his appearance-makes no sense to me. Yet he is not a stupid man, or insane; we were enemies across a border, and everything he ordered there made sense, inconvenient as it often was."

"He's had an illness? He's had an injury?"

"Not that I could tell. It must be, as with this thing about women soldiers, that he thinks very differently...and he thinks we have the same ideas, just different values."

It did not escape Kieri's notice that he felt much more competent preparing for an invasion than he had in planning for peace. He set in order the movement of supplies, of reinforcements, pored over the maps...realizing that for the first time in his life he must trust distant field commanders rather than take the field himself.

Regular couriers brought word of the Pargunese king's progress toward Chaya. Orlith and other elves wanted more time to teach him more about the taig; he could spare very little. What he wanted was someone who could teach him more about the Pargunese, but Orlith knew little more than he'd said before.

"We left those eastern sh.o.r.es long ago," he said.

"To come here?"

"No. To Aare, most of those who had been east of the water. We did not like it. Too far from our people here in the west, and too full of rockfolk. Mountains come close to the sea there, north and south both, and they were not pleased if we did not stay on the coast. The Seafolk then were farther south and avoided us; we knew them little."

Interesting history, but what he needed now was some useful information, something that would help him persuade the Pargunese not to attack Lyonya.

On the third day, the Pargunese king and his escort arrived in Chaya. The king rode well, as Kieri expected. He watched from an upper window, and saw his people greet the king courteously. He would have delayed their meeting to give the king a night to recover himself from the journey, but he could not, with the Pargunese army poised to attack. The king would be fed, bathed, and dressed in what Kieri could only hope were acceptable clothes, and then they must meet.

Kieri chose to receive the king in the smaller reception room. When he went down to check the room, it was prepared as he had asked. No weapons in the room, no breakable carafes or goblets...and the guest's chair, ma.s.sive and deep, would not make a throwing weapon.

"I still think you must bind him," Berne said. Arian nodded.

"It is gross discourtesy; he has been humiliated enough," Kieri said.