"Why would you cry for my queen?" he snapped.

"I'm not," she said. "I'm crying for you."

His hand trembled on the sword. "Why didn't you see this this?" he asked. "You said Robert was coming..."

"I didn't see this part," she said. "I was occupied with other things."

"Like your own escape? You knew Berimund would be at the gate."

"There was nothing eldritch about that," she said. "I heard he was in the city. I sent a message telling him of my plans. Besides you, Berimund is the only one I trust."

"Was it Robert?"

"I can see your queen," she said, her voice suddenly dreamier. "I see a man, hear a music..." She trailed off, her breath quickening, her eyes rolling back.

"Make her stop," Alis said. "Sir Neil, make her stop."

Brinna was trembling now as if an invisible giant had taken her in his hand and was shaking her.

He gripped her by the shoulders.

"Brinna," he said. "Wake up. Stop seeing."

She didn't appear to hear him, so he shook her harder.

"Brinna!"

"What are you doing to my sister?" Berimund's raging voice shouted from across the room.

"Brinna!"

Blood began running from her nose.

"Swanmay," Neil cried in desperation. "Swanmay, return!"

She went rigid and suddenly sighed, collapsing against him, her heart beating weakly.

He felt the tip of a sword p.r.i.c.k his neck.

"Put her down," the prince commanded.

Neil cut his eye toward the prince but kept Brinna bundled against him, feeling her heart strengthen.

"Do as I say!" Berimund exploded, pushing hard enough that Neil felt blood start on his neck.

"No." Brinna's hand came up and rested on the blade. "He saved me, Baur." She gently pushed down on the weapon and then reached for her brother. He tugged her away from Neil and wrapped her in both arms.

Neil just stood there, his knees feeling weak.

Alis took his elbow and got under his arm to support him.

"Robert did this," she said. "I'm certain of it."

Neil walked back to Muriele and sank slowly to his knees, understanding finally reaching his grieving brain.

She's gone. He couldn't protect her anymore. There was nothing else he could do. He couldn't protect her anymore. There was nothing else he could do.

Except find Robert and cut him into so many pieces that it wouldn't matter if he was alive or not.

PART IV

THE BORN QUEEN

When walks again the Born Queen, the bones of men will clatter within them; the wombs of their women will fill with venom; every rider of the night will take her lash with hideous joy. And when at last the bones shake off their flesh, and the wombs consume their bearers, and the lash murders; when finally it is only her single voice screaming in the night-when she lacks any man or beast or ghostly thing to harrow and she must at last turn on herself-then all will be still.But ten times a hundred years will first pa.s.s.-TRANSLATED FROM THE T TAFLES T TACEIS OR OR B BOOK OF M MURMURS

CHAPTER ONE.

OCCUPIED.

LEOFF CLOSED his eyes and let the form build in the ensemble of his mind. The first ba.s.s line began, a male voice, rising and falling: the roots in the soil, the long slow dreams of trees. Then, after a few measures, a second line entered as deep in pitch but in uneasy harmony with the first: leaves rotting into soil, bones decaying into dust, and in the lowest registers the meandering of rivers and weathering of mountains. his eyes and let the form build in the ensemble of his mind. The first ba.s.s line began, a male voice, rising and falling: the roots in the soil, the long slow dreams of trees. Then, after a few measures, a second line entered as deep in pitch but in uneasy harmony with the first: leaves rotting into soil, bones decaying into dust, and in the lowest registers the meandering of rivers and weathering of mountains.

Now the middle voice came in: Birth and growth, joy and tragedy, suffering and learning met with forgetting, the loss of senses, discorportation, disintegration...

It wasn't until Joven, the gardener, started shouting that Leoff understood that someone had been pounding on the outside door, probably for some time. His first reaction was impatience, but then he recalled that Joven rarely got excited and never to the point of shouting.

He sighed and set down the quill. He was at a standstill anyway. He had the form; the instruments were his problem.

When he answered the door, Joven proved to be more than excited; he seemed to be on the verge of panic.

"What is it, fralet?" Leoff asked. "Come in, have some wine."

"It's the enemy, Cavaor," Joven said. "He's here."

"The enemy?"

"Hansa. They've besieged Haundwarpen, and about a hundred of them just rode into the estate. The duke didn't leave many men here to guard it; I think they surrendered."

"I don't understand," Leoff said. "I thought Hansa was beaten at Poelscild."

"Auy. But they say Queen Anne is dead, and without her sainted power to hold them back, they've taken Poelscild and crossed the ca.n.a.l. All of Newland is in their grasp."

"The queen is dead? Queen Anne?"

"Murdered, they say."

"That's terrible news," Leoff said. He hadn't known Anne very well, but he owed her mother, Muriele, a lot. She had lost all but one of her children now. He couldn't imagine how she must be feeling.

Nor did he want to learn, at least not by direct experience.

"Where are Areana and Mery?" he asked, trying to keep calm.

"Lys went to find them. She thinks they're in the garden."

Leoff nodded and took up his cane. "Get them to the cottage and stay there with them, please."

"Yes, Cavaor," the old fellow said, and sprinted off as fast as he could on his aged legs.

Leoff pushed himself up and went out to stand on the stoop. Dogs were barking everywhere, but other than that it seemed a normal day, pleasant even.

He didn't have to wait long. Within a bell, a knight with a red-plumed helm came riding through the gate, followed by ten hors.e.m.e.n and about twice that number on foot.

The knight turned his head this way and that and, apparently satisfied he hadn't ridden into a trap, doffed the headgear, discovering an oval-faced man of twenty-something years with auburn hair and a lighter red mustache.

"I hait Sir Ilzereik af Aldamarka," he said in accented but good king's tongue. "I declare this house and its grounds spoils of war in the name of Marcomir, king of Hansa."

"I hait Leovigild Ackenzal," he replied. "I'm a guest here, by leave of Duke Artwair Dare."

"You live alone, Fralet Ackenzal?"

"No."

"Bring the others, then."

"I can't do that until I have your word they will be well treated."

"Why do you think you're in a position to bargain?" Ilzereik asked. "Who are you protecting? Your wife and daughters, perhaps? I could find them easily enough and do whatever I liked with them. But I am a knight of Hansa, not some thrall of your dead witch-queen. You need not beg me to behave properly in the eyes of the saints."

"I'm not begging," Leoff said. He'd been afraid of men like this once. He wasn't anymore, not for himself, anyway.

"Your house is mine," the knight said. "My men will sleep in the yard. You and whoever else is here will see to our needs. Do that and no harm will come to you. Is that understood?"

"It's understood," Leoff said. "If that is your word as a knight of Hansa."

"It is," the knight said. "Now, my man Aizmeki will go with you to find the others."

Aizmeki wasn't a big man, but he looked to be made of muscle and scars and not much else. He followed Leoff wordlessly out to the garden and the little cabin there.

Areana rushed out and hugged him. Mery just peered at the warrior as if he were some strange insect and took Leoff's hand in her little cold one.

The knight's word proved good, at least for that afternoon. Although many of the Hansan warriors leered openly at Areana and some at Mery, which was disgusting, none dared do more than make a few probably crude comments in their own language, and they returned to the house in peace.

He found Ilzereik looking through his music.

"Who wrote this?" he asked.

"I did."

"You did?" The knight peered at him a little more intently. "You're a composer?"

"I am."

"Ackenzal," the knight mused. "I don't recall the name."

"You know music?"

"I studied a little. My father thought I should, so he kept an instructor in our hall and sent me each autumn to study at the Liuthgildrohsn."

"Ah. With Mestro Evensun."

A little smile played on the knight's face. "You know the mestro?"

"I do. He lectured at the college when I was apprenticed to Mestro DaPeica."

The smile broadened. "I have a book of DaPeica's short works for hammarharp."

Leoff nodded.

"Well," the knight said, gesturing toward the hammarharp, "play me something of yours."

"I'm afraid I can't," Leoff said.

"You shouldn't fear my criticism," the Hansan said. "I'm not a sn.o.b. The great composers and the small, I like them all."

"That isn't it," Leoff said, holding up his hands.

"Schithundes," the man swore. "What happened?" the man swore. "What happened?"

"He was tortured," Areana interrupted in a brittle voice. "He's suffered much."

"I'm sorry to hear that," the knight said. "And I understand you, Frauja Ackenzal. Your husband will not suffer at my hands, not if you all behave."

"I can play for you," Mery said softly. "Areana can sing."