“We cannot remain long,” Lothair said. “Lara, my beauty, it is good to see you.” He kissed her cheek with a smile, causing Kaliq to glower.

“Aye, we have all been requested to remain at the Lord High Ruler’s palace tonight. Our merchant friends are very angry,” Prince Coilin said. “We must return in time for dinner with the Lord High Ruler.” He chuckled.

“Jonah seems to have found faith all of a sudden,” Lothair noted, grinning. “What did you do with our Hierarch?”

“I took him back to the little room he so modestly inhabits. He was quite relieved to find himself there, for now that the Darkling has deserted him he is very nervous of being found out for a fraud. I advised him to eat lightly and rest. That on the morrow I would transport him back to the council chamber,” Kaliq said.

“Your exit was quite dramatic,” Coilin murmured.

“It caused a brief discussion on faith in the Hierarch, which of course degenerated into an argument between the merchant representatives and the Lord High Ruler,” Lothair said, grinning. “And then Lord Jonah virtually locked the council away until the morning except for a dinner over which he will preside. The merchants protested, for they will have wanted to warn their fellows of what is to come. Jonah didn’t give them a chance.”

“What lies ahead is a huge task,” Lara told them. “We will use our powers to help the people of Hetar gain their goals by the Icy Season. They will not know that we aid them. They will believe that they have done it themselves, and it will give them a sense of accomplishment and national pride. They will then be ready for the next step in their rehabilitation.”

“What did you mean, Kaliq,” Lothair asked, “when you had the Hierarch tell them he had plans for the Crusader Knights and the Mercenary Guild?”

“The Mercenaries have always had but one task. To be the foot soldiers for war, or for guarding the caravans of the Taubyl traders. When there is no war to fight or traders to protect, they sit about idly drinking in the taverns of The Quarter, dicing, and expecting to be paid nonetheless. This cannot continue. Each Mercenary must be taught a trade, and put that trade to good use supporting himself and his family when his services as a Mercenary are not required. The wars of the last decade and the sicknesses that have swept Hetar have cut its population in half. But as long as Hetar insists on living as it always has no progress can be made.

“As for the Crusader Knights, they, too, must change. They have lost many of their members in these futile wars, and to illness and old age. And times being what they have been, they have not replenished their ranks. Perhaps the time has come to dismantle them.”

“Nay,” Lara said. “The Crusader Knights must remain. They must be rebuilt, but on a smaller scale I will agree. Should there ever be a war again it is these men who are the leaders of the armies. They are needed. The opportunity that they offer at their tournament for any who can meet their requirements is necessary, as well. Had my father not sought that opportunity he would have remained among the ranks of the Mercenaries, and I might never have had the opportunity to seek out my own destiny among this world. Surely you must see that, Kaliq.”

“But they serve no purpose except in war,” the Shadow Prince said.

“Then we will find a purpose for them that they can practice in times of peace, my lord,” Lara said. “Oddly many are artisans in their spare time, but of course only for their own amusement. What if those talents were turned to profit?”

“So speaks she who was born in Hetar,” Kaliq teased. Then he grew a bit more serious. “A warrior who turns from killing to beauty. There is an odd balance to it, my love. I like it! But they will resist, of course.”

“If they are told now there can be no new tournament to replenish their ranks, that the Crusader Knights will become a thing of the past until they can change, they will grumble, but will change,” Lara said. “We did promise a new tournament next year.”

“You grow cleverer with each passing year,” Lothair complimented.

“Nay, my lord,” Lara teased him. “With each passing day.”

The three Shadow Princes laughed aloud, and Kaliq said, “I have always considered modesty a lesser virtue, my brothers.”

“We must return to our guest chambers,” Coilin said. “It would not do to be called for dinner, and not be there.” And he was gone.

“He’s right,” Lothair agreed, and he, too, disappeared.

The following day in Hetar the High Council met again with the Hierarch presiding over them. The Lord High Ruler’s wife had slipped into the council chamber out of curiosity, for she had never before seen the Hierarch except from a distance. A deep blue veil covering her head, Zagiri watched from a corner in the rear of the room. There was something about the Hierarch that was familiar, but she could not quite put her finger on it. Still it troubled her, and she could not shake the feeling.

That night as Zagiri lay in her bed with her husband she considered the Hierarch. “Jonah,” she said, “just who is this Hierarch? Where does he come from, my lord?”

“The legend only said that the Hierarch would come when Hetar was facing a time of terrible trials,” he answered her.

“Is he mortal? Or is he someone from the magic worlds?” Zagiri persisted.

“I do not know,” Jonah said. “Why do you ask me?”

“He seems familiar to me,” Zagiri responded.

“Then he is probably someone from your mother’s world whom you may have once seen,” Jonah replied. “I feel better knowing that.”

“Will he stay in Hetar forever?” Zagiri wondered.

“The Hierarch? Nay. When he has set us on the right path again it is said he will disappear back to wherever he came from.” Jonah rolled over, and took his wife into his arms. “Come, and take pleasures with me, my golden girl,” he said to her. “Your pretty head should not be filled with questions about the Hierarch. I will always take care of you.” And Jonah kissed her ruby-red lips passionately, fondling her breasts as Zagiri reached out to stroke his manhood with her now very skilled fingers. But her mind was still filled with thoughts of the Hierarch.

And then several days later it came to Zagiri in a flash of memory. The Hierarch reminded her of her mother’s wicked nephew. She could not remember his name, but she knew the Hierarch looked exactly like him. She had seen him her last summer in the New Outlands tending cattle in a meadow near the village of Rivalen. And later at The Gathering. Zagiri understood that the Hetarians believed those people who had once inhabited the Outlands were savage, undisciplined, ignorant barbarians. Hetar would have enslaved them when they annexed the Outlands. But her mother and her allies had rescued the clan families, and resettled them in Terah with the blessing of Magnus Hauk.

Zagiri knew that her mother was revered by the clan families. She also knew they were not what the Hetarians believed they were. They were agrarian by nature, but highly intelligent. There was even one small clan family, the Devyn, who were the poets, the bards, the keepers of the clan families’ verbal history, which they would recite and sing each year at The Gathering.

What if this young man who was known as the Hierarch was actually the nephew her mother so disliked? An Outlander. The outcast member of the Fiacre clan family. Did her mother know if he was? And if he was, did it mean her mother was using this Fiacre male to wreak her revenge upon Hetar because Zagiri had run away and wed with the Lord High Ruler of Hetar? Did Lara mean to embarrass Jonah and the people of Hetar by foisting this fraudulent Hierarch upon them?

Or was it merely a coincidence that the Hierarch looked like her mother’s nephew? Was he actually who the Hetarians believed he was, a savior come to help them in this terrible time of trouble? A member of the same magic kingdoms to which her mother belonged? And were her mother and her allies aiding him? Certainly the Hierarch had not caused any harm, although she had heard from her husband and those about her that he was proposing radical changes to Hetar’s traditions.

Zagiri did not know what to do. As First Lady of Hetar was it not her duty to bring her concerns to her husband? Yet she knew Jonah well enough by now to understand he would use any information she gave him to his own advantage, and not necessarily in Hetar’s best interests. Zagiri wanted her husband to be the same kind of strong and benevolent ruler her father had been. And he could be under her influence. She had not really wielded that influence to date, but she was no fool. Jonah adored her, and by being clever she could bring out the best in him. Until now all the women in his life had encouraged the darkness in him to flourish.

Zagiri needed to speak with her mother, but she knew that Lara was still angry with her. A year had passed since she had let herself be magicked to Hetar, and in that time Lara had not once contacted her, or sent an emissary to her. Zagiri felt a tear slip down her cheek as she realized how much she missed Lara. She hadn’t wanted to disobey her mother, but those few meetings with Jonah on the Dream Plain had sent her tumbling headlong into love with him. She didn’t understand why she had fallen in love with this Hetarian. He was not a young man and his character could hardly be considered noble in either thought or deed. But love him Zagiri did. So much so that when he had sold off two of their three sex slaves she had freed Doran. Then to her mother-in-law’s double fury she had set the former sex slave up in his own business. The Pleasure Mistresses of The City were delighted, for Doran was an excellent trainer of new Pleasure Women. He would soon be a rich man.

For the last two months Zagiri’s only lover had been her husband. She had ceased taking the herbs to quell pregnancy and she prayed for a child. Her stepson, Egon, was becoming a fine young man with her mothering. He held no resentment toward the young stepmother just a few years his senior. But Zagiri had begun to long for her own child. Perhaps a daughter. Now, however, she had other things to think about. Hidden within her own little privy chamber, and swallowing her pride, she called out to her mother. “Mother, Mother, hear my call, and come to me from out yon wall.” She waited. Again she cried out to Lara. “Mother, Mother, hear my call, and come to me from out yon wall!” Still Lara did not come.

Zagiri felt tears welling up in her eyes. Never before had Lara behaved so coldly to her. And then for a brief moment she grew angry. She would tell Jonah that she believed the Hierarch to be a despised Outlander. Then reason set in once more. “Prince Kaliq, hear my plea. Cease all else, and come to me,” Zagiri said, and to her enormous relief the Shadow Prince appeared to her. “Oh, my lord!” Zagiri cried. Then she burst into tears, flinging herself into his arms.

Astounded by this unexpected outburst, Kaliq comforted her. “What is the matter, Zagiri?” he asked her, drawing a silk square from his sleeve, and handing it to her so she might wipe her eyes. He waited for an explanation.

Zagiri finally managed to control herself, but she clung to the silk square he had offered her. With a final sniff she moved out of his embrace, saying, “Thank you, my lord, for answering me. I called to Mother twice, but she will not come. I must speak with her, my lord. I must! It is very important.”

“Tell me what it is about, Zagiri,” Kaliq said quietly.

“It is the Hierarch, my lord. I think I know something about the Hierarch,” Zagiri told him in a whisper. “I really need to speak with Mother.”

Kaliq nodded. Lara was still angry at Zagiri. She had heard her daughter calling to her, but she would not answer her. And when Kaliq had scolded her Lara had stalked off across his garden. He could, of course, bring her here to Zagiri now. His magic was far stronger than Lara’s. But the Shadow Prince knew that the walls had ears in Hetar’s royal palace. When mother and daughter met again there was likely to be a loud argument. Wrapping his cloak about Zagiri, he said, “Come!” And when he flung back the garment they were in Shunnar in his garden.

“Where are we?” Zagiri gasped. “Is this your palace, my lord? Ohh, you must take me back! I should not be here.”

“Of course I will take you back, Zagiri,” Kaliq told her calmly. “But your mother remains angry at you. I might have brought her to you, but I think you know that everyone in Hetar would have heard her outrage with me and with you if I had. Better the pair of you work out your differences here than in your little privy chamber, Zagiri.”