Hurrying back through the main City gates Wilmot made his way to the small Council Quarter. Like all the other exclusive quarters it was gated and guarded. Wilmot sighed. He knew his appearance would count against him with the guards, but then he recognized one of the men at the entry, an elderly mercenary no longer fit for serious fighting who had managed to obtain duty as a guardsmen. Walking up to him, he greeted the old man.

“Sim! It is Wilmot. I have just returned from the Outlands.”

“I recognize you,” Sim responded, and the two men shook hands. “I heard it ended badly. Well, it would have, wouldn’t it?”

“Aye, it ended worse than badly,” Wilmot said. “Listen, I must see one of the council. A Shadow Prince, or a Coastal King. It makes no difference, but I have a message for them from the Outlands and there are some who would stop me.”

“Is this treason?” Sim said low. “I’ll have no part of treason, Wilmot.”

“It isn’t treason, I swear it!” Wilmot said. “The Shadow Princes and the Coastal Kings voted against the incursion last year. Gaius Prospero was council head then, and his vote tipped the balance that led to the troubles. Every man but the six of us saved to drive the death carts died because of the greed some of our leaders encouraged, Sim. My message comes to those who advised peace from those who would have the ancient treaties restored. If that is treason I will fall on my own sword for wanting it.”

“Prince Lothair is in right now,” Sim said softly. “His apartment is in the rear of the building on the top floor overlooking the gardens. Go!” And the old guardsman deliberately turned his head away so that he did not see Wilmot enter the residence where the council members lived.

The mercenary was very nervous, more so even than prior to battle. He had never seen a Shadow Prince before, let alone met one. He climbed the stairs to the top of the building, and knocked upon the door. It opened immediately, and he was ushered into Prince Lothair’s presence by a rather ordinary-looking manservant. Wilmot bowed most politely to the prince, who was garbed in shimmering dark silk robes.

“What message does Lara send me?” he asked Wilmot.

The mercenary’s mouth fell open with his surprise, but then he closed it. These men from the Desert were magic. Everyone knew that. “My lord, you know that Hetar entered the Outlands late last year. Our mercenary forces were told to put the native population beneath their heel for they had raided Hetar beyond their borders, killing, looting and raping. We were to make all able-bodied males toil in the mines for us. The ores and the gems were to be sent back to the City. The elderly among the barbarians were to be slain. The woman and children, ours to do with as we chose. Those who sent us lied, my lord prince.”

“Yes, I know,” Lothair said quietly.

“When the other lords of the Outlands learned of this incursion into their lands they came, and they slew all but six of us. We were sent back to the City driving carts filled with our dead. We were to take them to Gaius Prospero, and we did. He ordered us back outside the gates while a council is called to decide what to do.

“My life was spared by Lara, daughter of Sir John Swiftsword and now wife to Vartan, lord of the Fiacre,” Wilmot continued. “I knew her as a child, and she spared me, she said, for the sake of my elderly mother. The lords in the Outlands send this message to the High Council. Restore the ancient treaty between our two lands and there will be peace between us as there was before this incursion. They have repaid in kind the suffering that the Piaras and Tormod clan families endured during this illegal and unjust occupation. You and your allies on the High Council are warned to beware Gaius Prospero, and his ambitions.” Wilmot bowed again. “That is all, my lord prince.” He started to back out of the room, but Lothair raised a hand.

“Nay, remain, Wilmot. You must come with me to the High Council, and repeat to my fellow councilors what you have told me,” the Shadow Prince said.

“Gaius Prospero will have me slain for it, my lord,” Wilmot said. “I will be called traitor, and my mother will be sent from our hovel to wander homeless and helpless.”

“Did not Lara offer your mother sanctuary, Wilmot?”

“How…how did you know that, my lord prince?” The mercenary was astounded.

Lothair smiled, but did not answer. “I can see your mother is taken to safety, Wilmot. Today. Within the hour. Then you will be free to speak the truth before the council. Will you trust me?”

“How do you know Lara?” Wilmot asked.

“I am he who taught her to fight,” Lothair said with a small smile.

“I trust you then, my lord prince,” the mercenary replied. “She fought with skill, and with great honor.” He shook his head wonderingly. “I would never have thought a girl so fair would become so fierce. Yet she is more beautiful than when I last saw her before she left the City over two years ago.”

“Ferocity is a quality that can apply to both pleasure and battle,” Prince Lothair replied. “Now sit down, and I will bring your mother to you.” He waved his hand while murmuring several unintelligible words, and there was a flash of light. When it had faded Mistress Mildred stood in the center of the room looking quite confused.

“Mother!” Wilmot was on his feet to reassure her. Then he quickly explained the situation that had saved his life and returned him to the City. “You must go to the Outlands, to Lara, Mother, for your life, both of our lives, will be in danger when I have spoken the truth before the High Council. The Guild of Mercenaries was lied to, not that that would have disturbed our captains, some of whom may have known. We invaded and abused a peaceful people, and we have paid for it with our lives. I must speak the truth, but I cannot until I know you are safe.”

“Will they kill you?” Mistress Mildred wanted to know.

“Perhaps,” Wilmot said. “Their sole rationale has become profit as the merchants themselves. I know for a fact that a portion of the ores and gems mined in the Outlands was given to our guild in exchange for our service. Once each month we were permitted to take a single small gem for our pay, but the captains took more. They will be loath to have their greed and corruption uncovered, and may well try to have me killed.”

“Then I would just as soon die, too, my son. You are all I have,” the old lady said. “I do not know these Outlands which are said to be barbaric. Why would Lara welcome me? If she is all you have said, then she is a great lady now. She does not want to be bothered with a homeless old woman, my son. No. I will remain here.”

The mercenary looked distraught.

“Perhaps another solution,” the prince said. “Would you be content to live in the house of Sir John Swiftsword, Mistress Mildred? You should be in the City, and privy to all the gossip that this national problem will engender. And Wilmot could visit you.”

“Well,” Mistress Mildred said slowly, “aye, I could be content in the Garden District if they would have me. But perhaps Susanna has become too grand for her old neighbor from the Quarter, my lord.”

“I will inquire, mistress, but for now you will remain in the sanctuary of my home with your son,” the prince said. He had offered this remedy to calm the old woman, but he had no intention of following through. It was too dangerous for Lara’s family.

The door to the chamber where they spoke now opened, and a man, similar in appearance to Prince Lothair, entered. “I heard we had visitors,” he said with a smile.

“This is my brother Eskil,” Lothair told his guests, and then he introduced Wilmot and Mistress Mildred to his companion prince. “He serves with me on the High Council now.” Lothair clapped his hands, and the manservant was immediately there. “Take our guests to their rooms,” he instructed the man. “I will see you both for the evening meal. You will be safe here with me.” When they had gone, he explained the situation to Eskil.

“Once he has spoken before the High Council they will no longer be safe in the City,” Eskil said. “I worry less about Gaius Prospero than I do his secretary, the ubiquitous Jonah. He walks within a cloud of ambition. Gaius Prospero is merely greedy for anything his pudgy beringed fingers can grasp. Gold. Power. Beautiful women. Gemstones. Food. Good wine. Nay, Gaius Prospero doesn’t frighten me, but Jonah is a dangerous man.”

“But he must move carefully or lose everything,” Lothair responded. “We yet have time to put a stop to this expansion, especially now that the Outlanders have given Hetar’s forces such a thorough beating. Gaius Prospero will be eager to place blame on anyone but himself for this debacle. It is up to us to see he accepts the responsibility of defeat as well as the profits of success.”

“He will go to the people,” Eskil said, “and fill their minds with confusion.”

“We must reach them with the truth first, and have them place the blame where it belongs-on the thick shoulders of the Master of the Merchants,” Lothair suggested with a wry smile.

“We will need help,” Eskil said.

“I will call upon Lara’s kin, the Forest Faeries,” Lothair answered.

“Do not interfere with her destiny, brother,” Eskil said.

“I will not,” Lothair promised, “but do you want to see an emperor ruling Hetar? An emperor named Gaius Prospero? The faeries will unravel the confusion in the minds of the people that the others will attempt to sow. You know that if the people are vocal enough the High Council will heed them, if only to save themselves. It is only when the people become so tired with the games played by their politicians that men like Gaius Prospero can prevail. We both know that change is coming to Hetar, but the time is not quite right. But if we allow Gaius Prospero to interfere in what must be, who knows what damage he might cause? We must consider all aspects of this situation.”

Eskil nodded. “Nonetheless, we must get Wilmot and his mother to safety after he has spoken. I would not put it past our adversary to attempt an assassination in the Garden District. John Swiftsword or a member of his family could be harmed. We cannot have that, Lothair. Either they go to the Outlands, or they come to us in the Desert. There is no other way, and they must understand that.”

“Wilmot will, and he will make the decision,” Lothair said.

A knock at the door, and a messenger entered bowing. “A meeting of the High Council has been called for this evening, my lords. At the sunset hour.”

“We will be there, and our thanks,” Lothair replied.

“That was quick,” Eskil said when the messenger had departed.

“Go and listen to see if Gaius Prospero knows if Wilmot is missing,” Lothair said. “I will call Ilona to gain her help.”

Eskil nodded and disappeared into a shadowy form that was quickly gone.

Lothair went to a cabinet and took out a round green crystal. Sitting down, he held the crystal between his hands and said, “Ilona, queen of the Forest, I call on you for your aid. Come to me now.”

The room was silent, and then there was a puff of purple smoke, and Ilona was there. “What is it you want, Prince Lothair?”

“Sit, oh queen, and I will tell you,” he said.

“Do not dawdle, old friend. Thanos, my mate, frets if I am gone too long, and my son still sucks at my breast.”

Lothair quickly sketched out the situation for Ilona, finishing with his request for aid.

“How can I help?”

“You must set the tiniest of your faeries on the shoulders of the people so that when they are told the lies that Gaius Prospero would have them believe, they will not believe. We must keep him from gaining too much power.”

“I will honor your request, Lothair. How fares my daughter?” Ilona asked.

“Well, I am told. She is wife to Vartan of the Fiacre. She has become a great warrior, and is respected by his people,” Lothair said.

“Has she given him a child?” Ilona asked.

“Not yet, to my knowledge,” the prince answered.

“Then she does not love him,” the queen of the Forest Faeries said sadly.

“Or she does not believe the time is right for a child,” Lothair replied.

“Perhaps,” Ilona considered thoughtfully. “She is human as well as faerie. The times are unstable, and Lara has always had excellent instincts. I will go now, Lothair. My faeries will aid you.” Then Ilona was gone in another puff of purple smoke.

An amazing creature, the prince thought. And while she had never known her mother until recently, Lara was very much like her. He called his manservant, and gave orders that Wilmot and his mother be fed a good supper. “Tender our regrets, and tell Wilmot I will come for him when it is time.”