They were awaiting him.

“You went to the Munin,” Dillon said.

Kaliq smiled. “Aye, and I have the name we seek. It is Ahura Mazda. Now, Cirillo, it is up to you to fashion a spell that will bring this Yafir to us.”

“You and Dillon must create reinforcing spells for my magic,” the faerie prince said. “The Yafir are fairly resistant to the magic of others. They will try to repel my spell with their own so we will all have to work together.”

“And Cinnia and I can help,” Nidhug said.

“My dear dragon,” Cirillo told her, “this is serious and strong magic we must use. Your magic is not potent enough, I fear. Let us handle this task.”

“It is not beyond my magic,” Nidhug replied, “to turn you into a warty toad, if even briefly, for alas I am only a weak female, oh prince of the Forest Faeries.”

“I will be grateful to have you and Cinnia using your magic to protect ours,” Dillon said to the dragon. “We are going to need all the help we can muster.”

“Agreed,” Kaliq replied. “Work your summoning spell now, Cirillo. This Yafir must respond to you because you are both of the faerie race.”

With a little shrug and a charming smile directed to Cinnia and the dragon the faerie prince spoke. “Ahura Mazda, heed me well. A prince of faeries weaves this spell. Come to me from where you abide. From my voice you cannot hide.”

“What prince of faeries calls my name?” a disembodied voice asked.

“Show yourself,” Cirillo said.

“You did not request that I show myself. You only asked for my presence,” the voice told him smugly.

“Are you so ugly then that you hide yourself from us?” Cirillo demanded to know.

“You have my name, now give me yours,” the voice insisted.

“I am Cirillo, the son of Ilona, queen of the Forest Faeries, and her heir. These others are Kaliq, the great Shadow Lord, Dillon his son, the new king of Belmair, and…”

“I know the girl,” the voice told them. “Cinnia, daughter of Fflergant. He is dead then? And how did a Hetarian gain the throne of Belmair. Is it legal?”

“No more answers to your questions until you reveal yourself, Ahura Mazda,” Cirillo said firmly.

The Yafir high lord uncloaked himself. He was tall and slender, with eyes the color of an aquamarine and hair that was silvery-white. He was handsome in a cold way. “Very well, Cirillo of the Forest Faeries, you see me.” He was garbed all in different shades of blue with just a twinkle of gold here and there.

“Fflergant is gone, and Dillon of Shunnar rules in Belmair now. Cinnia is his queen,” Cirillo told the Yafir.

“What do you want of me?” Ahura Mazda asked.

“I have brought you here,” Cirillo said. “Now let the young king, who is my nephew, and his queen ask the questions of you that they must.” He turned to Dillon and Cinnia with a small nod.

“Let me welcome you to our castle, high lord of the Yafir,” Dillon began. “May I offer you in hospitality a goblet of wine?”

Ahura Mazda nodded, an amused smile upon his lips. “I will accept your hospitality, king of Belmair,” he said. “How is it that you are related to Prince Cirillo?”

“He is my mother’s younger brother,” Dillon answered.

“And your father?” the Yafir asked.

“Kaliq of the Shadows who stands in this chamber with you,” Dillon said.

Ahura Mazda’s pale, almost invisible eyebrow was raised in surprise. But recovering, he remarked, “Then you are magic.”

“I am magic,” Dillon agreed, and handed the Yafir a goblet of wine that appeared suddenly in his hand, creating one for himself, as well, and sipping at it.

The Yafir nodded. “Of course.”

“Let us sit, and you will tell me why you did not leave Belmair when you were banished all those centuries ago by Napier IX.” He led his guest to a settee where Cinnia and the two men sat down. Kaliq, Cirillo and Nidhug remained standing, at the ready.

“How do you know the Yafir were exiled?” he asked, curious.

“Was not the hidden chamber closed and destroyed shortly after you entered it?”

“The guardian was not able to prevent us from obtaining some of the books,” Cinnia said. “And those combined with some of Belmair’s most ancient texts helped us to learn of you, and that you were ordered away.” Cinnia paused and then she asked him, “Why did the king turn on you, my lord? And when he had, why did you not leave?”

“Ah, you Belmairans,” Ahura Mazda said, his tone tinged with scorn. “You are so tractable. We did not depart Belmair because we did not want to leave it. For centuries we have been driven from one world to another, called the troublemakers of the faerie races. All we wished was to share this world with you, but that fusty Napier IX insisted that we must leave Belmair. He accused us of everything he could think of, and then said we were no longer welcome here, and must go. Go where? There was nowhere left for us to go. So we did not. We hid ourselves away in this world, indeed beneath your very noses. Only magic could bring us into the light.”

“You are welcome to remain,” Dillon said. “We ask only one thing of you.”

“And what is that?” Ahura Mazda wanted to know.

“Stop stealing the young women of this world, high lord of the Yafir,” Dillon responded. “Their families weep for their loss, and those you have returned come back old, and have no knowledge of what has happened to them since you stole them away. Their pain at those lost years is so great that most died within days of their return.”

“We need your women,” Ahura Mazda said. “Do not be selfish like Napier IX was when he ruled, oh king of Belmair.”

“Why do you need the young women of Belmair?” Kaliq of the Shadows now asked, interjecting himself into the conversation.

“Because most of our Yafir women are dead,” Ahura Mazda said. “We cannot survive as a faerie race without children. In return for our faerie blessings we asked that Belmair give us one hundred young women of childbearing age each year. It was not many, and Belmair had plenty of young women to spare. But Napier IX said no. He said he would not deliver Belmair’s pure and innocent maidens into the hands of the Yafir to be despoiled and ravaged. The old fool! Our men wanted wives. They wanted women to bear our children. They were eager and ready to love them. But Belmair’s king said no. And then he told us to leave your world. Instead we took the women we wanted when we wanted, and we hid ourselves away from your general population.”

“So you have stolen these maidens for wives,” Cinnia said quietly. “But if you rebuilt your population why was it necessary to keep stealing women?”

“Your mortal women birthed more sons than daughters,” Ahura Mazda said. “We had no choice but to keep stealing women for our men,” he explained.

“Why did you not apply to the other faerie races throughout the Cosmos for wives?” Cirillo asked the high lord.

Ahura Mazda laughed a bitter laugh. “Would your queen have sent me a dozen faerie women as brides had I asked her?” he said. “Would any other of the faerie kings or queens? You all know the answer to that. The Yafir are scorned, and always have been.”

“You cannot keep taking our women,” Dillon said. “There are not enough now to marry the Belmairan men who want wives themselves. You will destroy us if you keep taking our women, Ahura Mazda.”

“Then we shall take your world for our own,” the high lord said. “And never again shall we be driven away. Belmair shall be ours. We can wait.” And then he surprised them further by disappearing in a puff of scarlet smoke.

“I can force him back,” Cirillo said.

“Do not bother,” Kaliq replied. “We have learned what we need to know. Now we must take steps to prevent the further chaos that Ahura Mazda wishes to stir up.”

“And how are we to do that?” Cinnia wanted to know.

“Well,” Kaliq said, “the first thing we must do is figure out how the Yafir steal your females. We should learn where they have hidden themselves. And we must create a protection spell for all of Belmair’s remaining young women.”

“Now that the Yafir knows we are aware of them,” Dillon said, “will they not be more dangerous? Ahura Mazda appears to me to be ruthless and determined.”

“We can destroy him and his kind,” Cirillo said coldly. “The Yafir have ever been difficult. They are the most mercurial and untrustworthy of the faerie races.”

“I felt rather sorry for him,” Dillon told his uncle. “If Napier IX had simply cooperated with the Yafir none of this would have happened. I don’t want them destroyed. I want to see if we can heal this breach and live in peace with them.”

“Hah!” Cirillo replied. “Thus speaks that tiny bit of mortal blood within you, Nephew. One must deal with one’s enemies decisively or suffer at their hands.”

“I think you are too quick to judge, Uncle,” Dillon said. “I will grant you that they are the most mercurial among the faerie races, but what makes them untrustworthy?”

Cirillo shrugged. “I don’t know, but they are. Everyone among our kind says it.”

Dillon laughed. “And everyone said I was the son of Vartan.”

Kaliq chuckled. “Belmair is Dillon’s domain now,” he said in a quiet voice. “He must decide what he will do about the Yafir, Cirillo. And it is our duty to help him. If he is wrong we will know soon enough, and can rethink this problem. For now we need a strong protection spell for the young women of Belmair.”

“I will send out messengers to all the dutchies seeking information as to how the women are stolen,” Dillon said. “I do not know how much help that will be to us, but perhaps it will give us a better idea of how to protect them while we devise a spell.”

“I will take your message to each of the dukes myself,” Nidhug said. “If I carry the king’s word it will be taken more seriously, especially as I shall go in my full size. I am always extremely impressive full sized.”

“I need to return home to work in my own apothecary if I am to create a perfect spell. And perhaps my mother can make a suggestion or two if I ask her,” Cirillo said.

“If she learns what you are doing,” Dillon teased his young uncle, “she will make suggestions whether you ask her or not.”

“Be careful, Nephew, that I do not tell my sister that you need her,” Cirillo taunted Dillon back. “Lara has not visited you yet, has she? I’m sure she is dying to come, and just waiting for the right moment.” And then he was gone in a puff of purple smoke.

“If Cirillo doesn’t need my help,” the young king said, grinning at his uncle’s departure, “perhaps I shall go with Nidhug. If both the king and Belmair’s guardian arrive in each dutchy to tell its dukes what has happened then the matter will be taken most seriously. What think you, Cinnia?”

“I think it is an excellent idea,” Cinnia agreed. “You will also by going do honor to Dukes Tullio, Alban and Dreng. They will not forget such a courtesy. Yes, go, my husband. We will not allow the Yafir to destroy us so they may have Belmair for themselves. I am, like you, willing to share our world, but I will not be driven from it.”

“Well spoken, Cinnia,” Kaliq told her. “And now, my children, I will leave you, too, for you do not need my services quite yet. I will return with Cirillo when he has successfully formulated his protection spell. Shall I bring Lara with me then, Dillon?”

“Aye, I think it is time that she and Cinnia met,” Dillon responded.

“Keep safe,” the Great Shadow Lord said, and then he disappeared.

“I will meet you on the same castle rooftop as before,” Nidhug said. “At dawn, Your Majesty. Where would you travel to first?”

“Beltran, I think, Nidhug,” Dillon said. “Duke Dreng considers himself the premier duke of this realm, Tullio and Alban do not seem to disagree. So let us visit Beltran first. Then we will go on to whichever of the dutchies is closest to it.”

“I will see you on the morrow, Your Majesty. Dress warmly for I shall fly high, and it will be cold aloft,” the dragon told him. Then with a small bow she departed.

“It is night already,” Dillon noted, gazing out the windows of the chamber where they had all been meeting.

“Are you hungry, my lord?” Cinnia asked. “It is past the dinner hour.”

“Have the servants bring something to our chambers,” he said. “We will sup before the fire, my queen.”

They went to their apartment, and Cinnia gave instructions to her servant, Anke. When the meal came Ferrex served it on a small table that had been set before the blazing hearth. There was a platter of large, meaty prawns that had been steamed in white wine; a fat capon roasted golden, stuffed with bread, sage and onions; a plate of artichokes with a little brown crock of sauce made from ground mustard seed, dill and heavy clotted cream; as well as fresh baked bread, sweet butter and a dish containing slices of several varieties of cheese. A bowl of silky custard with stewed apricots had been brought as a sweet, along with a small plate of delicate sugar wafers.