Thus the two, Elven Prince and Dwarf Druid, had become locked in a combative argument.

"You make it sound as if the end of Arishaig is a foregone conclusion," Phaedon resumed, sitting down again and giving her an irritated look. "You suggest there is only one choice, and you are the one to make it. Where is the reason and judgment in that course of action? Would you have us appoint you as our leader, as well? Should we dispense with our own military commanders and simply accept you as the better man? Or woman?"

She shook her head in reproach. "I do not propose to lead. I propose to stand with you. All I am saying is that time slips away."

"Oh, yes. Time slips away. In point of fact, it slipped away entirely from your order, didn't it? Taking with it most of its members. So now you need a new situation and a new cause. Because you did so well with the last, no doubt."

"Phaedon!" his father called out in warning.

The Prince was baiting her, but Seersha did not bite. "I did poorly in my last situation, as did we all. But we learned valuable lessons, Prince Phaedon, and lessons that are paid for with blood and lives should not be ignored. So I say to you again: Do not mistake the extent of the danger that faces you. Act now to prevent it from getting closer. Put aside the past and embrace a future that can be different for all concerned. Assemble your army, convey it by airship to the walls of Arishaig, and end the demon invasion."

"Let's put it to a vote!" Ellich Elessedil insisted.

There was a general murmur of approval, and sensing the favorable mood of the Council the King was quick to act on his brother's suggestion. Only Phaedon and two others voted to withhold support for the Federation and besieged Arishaig. Seven others, the King included, voted in favor.

When the Council was adjourned, Phaedon rose and departed without a word or a glance at anyone.

"Well done, Seersha," the King whispered, his face expressionless as he escorted her from the chamber.

Deepest night.

Edinja Orle's creature slid through the darkness like the passing of a great cat, all swift movement with only a suggestion of substance, carrying its limp burden easily. It had come from its place of hiding among the Elves, changing into its true form, discarding its disguise until it finished what it had come to do. No one had seen it, and no one would. It would do what it had been given to do before this night was out and then return to its hiding place and resume its other identity with no one the wiser. This night's mission would remove one more obstacle to its mistress's plans, and it would accomplish that mission and leave again with no sign of its passing.

Its instructions had been delivered earlier in the day by an arrow shrike, the favored messenger of its mistress. The creature had found the bird at the usual place, away from the city and the prying eyes of its citizens. The message had been plain and direct. There was no chance of a misinterpretation or a misunderstanding. The instructions were to be carried out this night, and they were to be followed to the letter.

The creature understood and obeyed. This was Edinja Orle, after all. Refusals were not allowed.

It made its way through the city, keeping to the back paths and staying in the shadows. When it reached its destination, it took to the trees that grew thick and plentiful throughout the sprawling grounds, their branches closely intertwined, providing a perfect avenue to avoid being seen. Moving smoothly from branch to branch and tree to tree in spite of the weight of its burden, it passed above the heads of the guards keeping watch below, some hidden and some in view but none suspecting for a moment it was there.

It could not allow itself to be seen. It could not be detected. It must be as if it were never there at all.

From the trees, it passed above the roof of the building and dropped onto a section no one slept beneath so that the sound of its landing was not heard. Carrying its limp burden, it made its way across the tiles to where an enclosed courtyard sheltered interior gardens, and dropped down onto its stone walkway. From there, it entered the house through a pair of windowed doors and moved deeper inside, passing through living quarters and down a hallway to the bedrooms.

Security was light. Strong outside, where it was intended that any threats would be met and quickly dealt with, but absent altogether once inside the residence.

Even though it was the royal palace and the ancestral home of Kings and Queens, and the Elves should have known better.

It knew the layout of the home; it had been here many times before, always in its other form, always as a welcomed guest. It had been given many opportunities to study the home's rooms and passageways, and it could find its way about easily.

It knew exactly where the old King slept.

When it entered his room, it found him slumbering in his bed, unaware of the danger. Edinja's creature wasted no time. It set aside its burden, moved to the bedside, slid the knife from its belt sheath, pinned the old man to the bed with one hand covering his mouth, and drove the knife into his chest.

Emperowen Elessedil shuddered once as the knife reached his heart and then went still.

The creature withdrew the knife in a rough, jerking motion, spraying blood and creating the impression that the attack had been violent and heated. It threw bedclothes on the floor, overturned a chair, and arranged the King's body to suggest that a terrible struggle had taken place and he had been all but dragged from his bed. Then it turned to the unconscious man on the floor, smeared the King's blood on his clothes, and placed the knife in his hand.

Satisfied, it took a final look around, and then picked up a vase and threw it through the glass of the bedroom window, the sound reverberating in the night's stillness.

Seconds later, it was back in the courtyard as the Home Guards rushed inside to discover what was happening, climbing the walls to the roof before leaping into the cover of the trees and disappearing.

CHAPTER Sixteen

Seersha did not visit the practice field the next day, although she was awake before sunrise. She had intended on going, but her body was aching from more than the pains of combat and she was feeling sick. When she laid a hand on her forehead, it was hot and clammy. Somehow she had picked up a fever. She wasn't so unwell she couldn't manage on her own, just uncomfortable enough not to want any strenuous movements in her life for at least the next twenty-four hours.

She rose while it was still dark to wet a cloth in cold well water and mop her forehead and cheeks. After doing so, she drank a glass of ale, then rewet the cloth and, carrying it with her, went back to sleep. Her way of dealing with sickness usually consisted of drinking liquids and getting rest, and she wasn't inclined to vary what had always been a successful treatment.

Nevertheless, she had barely gotten back to sleep when she heard a knock at her cottage door. Because Mirai and the others were gone and she was living alone, no one else was going to answer the door. Fine with her, she told herself, intent on ignoring the summons.

But the knocking continued, steady and insistent, and it occurred to her it might be Crace Coram or a messenger from the King or something that involved plans for the Elven army's travel south to Arishaig, so she reluctantly roused herself, threw on some clothes, and shuffled her way to the front door.

When she opened it, she found Sian Aresh standing in front of her looking decidedly agitated.

"May I come in?" he asked. Without waiting for her response, he pushed past her and closed the door quickly behind them.

"Is someone after you?" Seersha asked jokingly, cocking one eyebrow at him.

He shook his head. "No, someone is after you."

She took a closer look and saw that his lean face was fatigued and his clothes rumpled. More troubling was the haunted look in his eyes.

"What is it?" she asked. "Who's after me?"

"I am. I'm here to arrest you."

She started to grin and then realized he was serious. "Why would you do that?"

"I wouldn't, as a matter of fact. But that's why I am here." He glanced around the darkness of the room. The moon was down, but dawn was not far away. "Can we move away from the door and the windows to a place where someone looking in won't see us talking?" he asked.

She took him into her bedroom where the curtains were still drawn. "I woke up feeling sick, so I've been trying to rest." She gestured at the rumpled bedclothes and the cluttered floor. "Excuse the mess."

He shook his head. "I have a bigger mess than this one to deal with, Seersha," he said. "Emperowen was murdered last night. Stabbed to death. His brother Ellich was found on the floor of his bedroom next to him, blood on his clothes and a knife in his hand. He's been charged with murder and locked up."

Seersha stared. "That makes no sense at all! Why would Ellich kill his brother?"

The Captain of the Home Guard moved over to the bed and sat down, rubbing his face wearily with his hands. "He wouldn't. He didn't. But someone made it look like he did, and Ellich can't explain what he was doing there. He claims he was asleep one moment, and on the floor of his brother's bedroom the next. He denies everything, but that's not going to save him."

Seersha started to ask why, and then realized who was behind this. "Phaedon," she said.

The Elf nodded. "With his father dead, he declared himself King. His father had already designated him as his successor, so crowning him is a formality. No one has a better claim, and the Elves don't deviate from tradition without a very good reason. It's unfortunate, but it won't be the first time something like this has happened. In any event, he was quick to make the decision to lock up his uncle. A few objected, myself included, but he paid no attention to us."