“Are there places of learning in the City or throughout the provinces, my child?” he asked her.

“For the wealthy, aye, but not for the ordinary people,” Lara said. “What little I learned, I learned from my grandmother, who learned it from I know not where.”

“It is not necessary to educate a people if you keep them content,” Master Bashkar said quietly. “Give them a roof over their heads, enough sustenance to keep them from starving, free public entertainments, perhaps a small reason for living and you do not have to educate them. It was not always so on Hetar.

“Once all children were educated to their full potential in order that they might advance themselves if they chose, and be of use to our society. But that led to dissension as people began to think for themselves, and question their leaders. Those in power do not like being questioned. As those wise ones who instructed the young grew old and unable to teach, others took their places. But they did not teach as well, nor did they teach our history, or our great books and poetry. Mathematics became complex and convoluted. The ordinary folk could not understand it, but no one taught them the simplicities of mathematical skills, or logic. But they were kept fed, housed and entertained, and were encouraged to use their skills at whatever could bring them in a few coins. Education was no longer encouraged, and so finally it was no longer offered to the people.”

“What is poetry?” Lara asked him.

“A story in rhyme,” he told her. “I am sure you have heard street poetry, Lara, but it is unlikely you have ever heard the great sagas and songs of old that were once taught, and recited about the halls at night.”

“No,” she said. “I have never heard anything like that.”

“Nor I,” Noss chimed into the conversation.

“There is a great saga that was once told of how the Shadow Princes of the Desert came into being eons ago,” Master Bashkar said.

“Prince Kaliq once told me he had a Peri ancestor, but he also said his kind had come from the shadows at the beginning of time,” Lara said. “How can that be?”

“Before time as we now know it began,” Master Bashkar said, “Hetar was a world of clouds and fog. The Shadow Princes came first from those mists. They were male spirits, and for several generations they mated with the faerie races they found here. Then the clouds cleared away, and the beauty of the planet was visible to all. At that time it was discovered there were others on Hetar as well. The Forest Lords descended from tree spirits and banded with the Midland folk who came from the earth spirits. The people from the Coastal Region had their origins in the sea. They built the City at the center of it all, and became civilized.”

“But what of the Shadow Princes?” Lara asked.

“The faerie women they had mated with bore only sons. Discovering this hidden valley, they chose the Desert as their realm,” Master Bashkar continued. “But soon it was feared there would not be room for all the offspring they were producing, for they were a fertile race. It was then the princes decided if the faeries would grant them long life and the same ability to reproduce only when they chose, they would remain in the Desert, joining the High Council as a part of Hetar, keeping clear of all dissension, yet trading with the others and welcoming them when they came. Women were no longer necessary to their society, nor were children. The Shadow Princes are a selfish race. Kind, but selfish. And so it has been for many centuries. Now and again new members are chosen for the council that the others are not made uncomfortable by their longevity and never-changing appearance. They take women they admire for their pleasure, but they always return them to their families with enough wealth to satisfy those families.”

“But what if the women fall in love with their princes?” Lara asked.

“Then they are returned with broken hearts. It is not wise to love a Shadow Prince, Lara, and they try to be careful in their choices,” he said.

“How came you here?” she wondered.

“I am an Outlander, a member of the Devyn clan,” he explained. “Our society is very different from that of Hetar. The clan families keep mostly to themselves.”

“I have never met an Outlander,” Lara told him.

“You would not have,” he told her with a smile. “We are despised by those who call themselves Hetarians. They are repulsed by our ways for we refused to allow ourselves to conform to their way of thinking, or their social order. They wear a cloak of civilization proudly, but beneath their veneer they are more savage than the Outlanders. Did the prince not tell me your father sold you into carnal bondage that he might advance himself and his new family? It is barbaric, and would not happen in the Outlands!”

“No!” Lara cried. “You do not understand! My father is a great swordsman, but without the means to advance himself into the Crusader Knights he was doomed to remain in the Quarter. My baby brother would have had no future at all. Nor would I, for there was no coin for my dowry. He had nothing of value but for me. The monies Gaius Prospero paid for me allowed my father to dress himself properly, to obtain new weapons, and fine armor. We knew he would win his tournament matches if his application could just be accepted, but it would not have been unless he appeared worthy. My father is a good man, Master Bashkar, and I was proud to be able to aid him.”

“His great skills with his weapon should have made him more than worthy, Lara. Men should be judged by what they can do, and for no other reason,” Master Bashkar said. “A fine appearance will not aid him on the battlefield, my child. You were the treasure your faerie mother gave him in return for his love. Yet he used you badly.”

“My father did not desert me, Master Bashkar. If my mother had remained with us, could not her faerie magic have aided my father to gain his goal sooner? But she did not. I was but a few months old when she left us for another lover.”

“She loved you, my child. Did she not put that chain and star crystal about your neck to keep you safe from harm? A faerie woman who gives a mortal man a child does not leave them without great cause.”

Lara was more confused than she had ever been as she listened to Master Bashkar’s words. Her whole life she had been told of how thoughtless and cruel Ilona had been. How she had ensorcelled her father as a youth, given the love-struck boy a half faerie child, and then recklessly left him to satisfy her carnal faerie nature, thereby breaking his heart. Had not her grandmother, Ina, said it often enough? And her father had never disagreed. Indeed, he spoke of Ilona as little as possible, and when he did the look in his eyes was painful to see. When she had been naughty as a child, Ina had often warned her she must not allow her mother’s wicked faerie nature to overcome her. Now, however, she was being asked to embrace that nature, and unable to help herself, she was. And what’s more, she found she liked that part of her that was faerie. But still she could not reconcile herself to a faerie mother who cared so little for her that she deserted her. She would never forgive Ilona. And her father was a good man, no matter what Master Bashkar said. The Master was an old man, and he did not understand the complexities of life in the City.

The winter passed, and spring came to the Desert. For the first time Kaliq took Lara from the palace. The rains had come for a brief time to the sands, and the Desert was abloom with a carpet of flowers. Lara was amazed by them as they rode forth.

“How can this be?” she asked him.

He shrugged. “It is an aberration of nature,” he told her. “They will be gone in a few days, and then the sands will stretch golden again for as far as the eye can see. Each year at this time the flowers come into bloom. When they begin to die we will gather the fading blossoms to make potions and medicines from their seeds and petals.”

When they returned to the palace within the cliffs, Lara was suddenly aware of how stifling it was in comparison to the great Desert. The urge to leave the Shadow Princes was suddenly tugging at her. She forced it back. She must remain the year and a day to be truly free. And where else would she go that she could be as safe? Og was more than content working with the prince’s horses. He had friends among the other servants who were not intimidated by his size. She rarely saw him now but in passing. But she had her lessons with Master Bashkar, and she had Noss. And Kaliq instructed her each night in the arts of passion. Lara enjoyed his lessons best of all.

The months passed, and then one day when she had been within the Shadow realm for almost a year, the grandmother she had never known, Maeve, queen of the Forest Faeries arrived in Kaliq’s dining hall one evening in her usual puff of lavender mist. She was barely visible, yet seeing her, the Shadow Princes came to their feet and bowed low. Kaliq came forward to lead her to a seat. He put a goblet of wine in her hand.

She drank from it, and her image strengthened. She was a beautiful creature even in her decline. Lara could but imagine what she had been like in her prime. Maeve was tall, and gracefully slender. She had silver hair like spun sugar that billowed gently about her now-thin face. Her pale green eyes were alert and sharp, sweeping about the room and taking in all. A once-full mouth was now thin with age, but there was a sweetness to it; her nose was straight and in perfect proportion to the rest of her face. She gave the impression of great fragility, but Lara sensed it was actually great strength. Maeve was garbed in elegant garments of forest-green and gold brocade, a golden torque about her slim neck. As Lara stared at her grandmother, her features faded slightly, but when the faerie queen drank again from the goblet in her beringed hand, the image was restored. It grew even stronger when she spoke to him. “Why have you summoned me, Kaliq of the Shadow realm?”

“I have that which you have longed for most, great Maeve,” he said. “I have your granddaughter, Lara, only child of your daughter, Ilona.”

Maeve’s glance swept the hall at his words, and when they reached Lara a strangely sweet smile lit her aristocratic features. “Lara!” She breathed the word, and stood. Then unable to remain upon her feet she sat down heavily upon the bench, holding out her hand to the girl.

Unable to resist the soft call, Lara arose and came to kneel by the faerie queen’s side. “I am here, grandmother,” she said. A wave of tenderness swept over her.

Maeve reached out, and caressed Lara’s face. Her touch was like being brushed by butterfly wings, the girl thought. The delicate hand fingered Lara’s gilt hair. Then her fingers tilted the girl’s face upward, and Maeve stared into Lara’s green eyes. Lara felt as if a bolt of lightning had struck her. She immediately felt the bond of kinship with the faerie. “Ilona’s child,” Maeve said. Then looking away from her granddaughter, she turned her gaze again on Kaliq. “How?” she demanded.

The Shadow Prince recited Lara’s tale, and Maeve nodded again and again as he spoke. He concluded by saying, “I have sheltered her, and taught her since she came, great Maeve. I know she will not remain with me for much longer, but I know how much you have longed to know her. I am glad you have come.”

“I must summon my daughter,” Maeve responded. “She must see her child.”

“No!” Lara cried. “I do not want to see her! How can I ever forgive her for leaving us, grandmother? Forgive me if I hurt you, for I hold no ill will toward you, but I cannot see she who broke my father’s heart when she deserted him for another lover.”

The faerie queen’s image flickered, and dimmed slightly. She quickly downed the contents of her cup, and was restored to their sight. “Your mother did not leave your father for another man, Lara. That is but what she told him so he should not attempt to dissuade her from her fate again. Your mother has always been my chosen. She will become queen of the Forest Faeries when I am finally faded away. My time grows short now. I needed her back in my own kingdom that she might learn her duties. She could no longer live in both your father’s world and ours. It was her duty to return, and your mother has always known how to do her duty, no matter how painful. Several times she came to see you, but neither your father, nor your father’s mother would permit her access to you. They said it was better for you. That seeing you, and then departing again would but confuse a child. Ilona finally accepted their wishes, though it pained her greatly. Were you not told this when you were grown, Lara?”

The girl shook her head slowly. “My father rarely spoke of my mother,” she said. “It was my grandmother, Ina, who told me of my heritage.”