"Your precious dark gift has done me little good," Jared growled. "And as for rumors, do you think the commoners would believe I would give safety to one of your kind... after we've gone to such pains to exterminate the others?" He paused. "I still think they could have been turned to be... useful to us."

"Ah yes," Arontala said in that smooth voice Jared found so mocking. "Jared Drayke, slayer of vayash moru, defender of the kingdom. Even I could not turn and retain control of so many of... as you put it... my kind." "Even you?" Jared sneered. Arontala made a dismissive wave. "There are still the palace ghosts." "The dagger which slew your father was spelled to destroy the soul as well as the body. His body was burned, and the ashes mingled with dryroot and scattered under a full moon. There is no magic that can bring him back," Arontala replied. "And the others?"

"Some of the spirits were banished," Arontala replied. "They cannot return unless I bid them come. As for your stepmother and her brat, their spirits are still here under my watchful eye," he said with a lethal smile as he walked around the pulsing, red orb in the center of the room. "They await the Feeding," he said, his hand hovering just above the surface of the orb. "They are quite safe in my Soulcatcher," he smiled.

"There is still Bava K'aa," Jared snapped. "I saw what she could do."

"Bava K'aa is dead."

Jared turned toward the mage and shook his head. "She was a mage. A strong one. She could will her spirit to remain."

"That was why we set the warding around the throne room when your father fell," Arontala replied. "And why I set the spell to banish the castle ghosts. If her spirit is here, which I do not sense, she did not come to Bricen's aid."

Jared began to pace. "No, she didn't," he replied softly, as if answering himself instead of Arontala. "But she always favored Serae's brats. And I think she always meant for Serae's son to rule." He looked up at the mage. "I want you to find her body and destroy it."

Arontala returned a skeptical look. "Bava K'aa was buried within a citadel of the Sisterhood. Nothing short of war could breach their protections."

"Why are you so clear on what can't be done and not on what can?" Jared exploded. "You're supposed to make sure that nothing interferes. If you can't do that, perhaps there's a stronger mage who can!"

Arontala looked faintly amused. "Perhaps. But I sense that you fear something more than Bava K'aa's ghost."

Jared stopped pacing in front of the empty hearth and stared into the darkness of the opening. "I've always heard that sorcerers must have a mage heir." He turned to face Arontala and forced himself to meet those mocking, dark eyes. "What if my cursed brother is her heir?"

As usual, Arontala's eyes revealed nothing. "You have no reason to believe that. Your brother has shown less interest in magic than he has in ruling. Really, Jared, if you thought him to be such a threat, why didn't you kill him yourself? You had plenty of opportunities."

"If he has Bava K'aa's power," Jared continued doggedly, "do you realize what that means? He could summon her spirit to fight me, use her powers against me and take the throne. If he becomes a Summoner, if he inherited grandmother's gift, then both the spirits and the undead heed his command." "You are worried about children's tales and ghost stories."

"Then prove me wrong," Jared hissed, turning on the mage. "Drive out the Sisterhood. Make sure Bava K'aa can't return from the dead. And find my brother!"

"As you wish, sire," Arontala answered with a low bow Jared was not altogether sure was respectful. "But there are a few more details in which you might be interested."

"Speak."

"I have set a barrier spell on the border with Dhasson," Arontala reported, a smile at his own cleverness touching the corners of his thin lips. "It is particular to your brother. It will summon every dark thing in the Northern Lands as soon as he breaches the border." Arontala smiled his pleasure. "No one could withstand those... things... and live."

"No one but a mage," Jared muttered darkly. "My brother has the lives of a cat." He paced. "And while you tell me you are the strongest mage in the Winter Kingdoms, you have not told me who made those dark beasts, since they are more than you can conjure."

It was the first time Jared scored against Arontala, and the mage turned with a dismissive gesture. "It does not matter who made them," he said. "What matters is that we have made them useful."

"It doesn't matter who made them," Jared echoed dryly, "until that mage appears and demands his due."

"There are more pressing matters to worry about," Arontala responded impatiently.

"Like my brother."

"He is only an average swordsman, my liege," Arontala replied with patronizing mildness. "Even with help, there are too many of the creatures to fight. He will not survive crossing the border. Not for long."

"Your assurances are hollow," Jared snapped. "I can't rest until he is dead."

"You will not wait long, your majesty," Arontala answered, gliding to the window. "Have you so little faith?"

"Yes," Jared returned. "You have not delivered Isencroft to me, let alone rid me of my brother. If such a simple matter eludes you..."

"Only a weak king uses magic when statecraft will do," Arontala replied impatiently, turning from the window. "You have the covenant, signed by your father and King Donelan of Isencroft, sealing the betrothal of a princess of Isencroft with the ruling son of Margolan. I have already arranged for Catoril to travel there and bring Princess Kiara back to visit. You need only impress her. I should think even you can handle that."

Jared glared at the mage. "You were supposed to have solved the Donelan problem by now," Jared replied, beginning to pace. "The possibility still exists that he may forbid the marriage. Kill him and she has no choice. Isencroft is on the brink of famine. Even our proud warrior princess must see that there are no alternatives to Margolan's... protection."

Arontala watched Jared with dry amusement. "It has been said that those for whom magic is most addicting are not mages. I have fixed Donelan in a wasting spell. He resists. To do more, over this distance, is a waste of my power."

"I'll judge that!" Jared snapped. "You were told to see him dead."

"Patience, my liege," Arontala said smoothly. "Patience. It is not wise to make too great a show of our powers. Not yet. Donelan has not been seen in months. If it were not for my scrying, one could assume his death already. And Kiara Sharsequin is not another of your empty-headed mistresses. She is Goddess Blessed and a skillful warrior. You will have to win her consent to the marriage with your own abilities." He smiled coldly. "Once the wedding is over, I will assure her death."

"More promises," Jared muttered. "Leave me. I'm tired of your prattle. Bring me news when your spies reach the northern roads. I want to know when my brother crosses the border."

Arontala bowed low with exaggerated grace. "As you wish, my liege," he murmured, but the glance with which he fixed the king gave Jared no doubt that the wizard's show of servitude was merely one more dangerous game.

He watched the mage leave and shuddered. The sorcerer could make all the reassurances he wished, Jared thought, but he was underestimating Bava K'aa.

Despite his heavy robes, Jared shivered. As for ghosts, the palace had more than its share. Now, despite Arontala's warding, he swore he could feel their presence, waiting, mocking, angry. He must make sure Tris could never draw on their power, never turn them against him as they had savaged the attackers of King Hotten generations ago.

Arontala says he's banished them, but maybe they're just beyond the gates, he thought. And they're waiting.