“So you have not forsaken your studies altogether. You still seek signs in the night sky.”

“No, I must admit that I no longer study the stars in their courses. This event was pointed out to me by Toli, who remarked on it a few nights ago.”

“Well, your Toli is right. In fact, we have been following this star with interest for many months. Tonight, as you have seen, we were once more examining the charts and seeking an answer to this wonder.”

“Then you do not know what this sign portends?”

“Does one ever?” Biorkis laughed. “Why do you look so shocked? A priest may have doubts-even the High Priest. Ah, but we have our theories. Yes, many theories.”

“That is what we have come to hear-your theories. What do you think it means?”

DURWIN’s LONG brown robes swept along behind him as he rushed along the darkened corridors of Askelon Castle. Torches lit the way, sputtering in the gusty air as Durwin hurriedly passed. Ahead of him he could see a pair of doors which opened onto a patch of the night sky infused with the moon’s radiant beams.

He stepped across the threshold and onto the balcony, then paused. There, a few paces from him, stood the slim figure of a woman; her dark hair tumbled down in shimmering ringlets and curls and her face was averted, revealing the shapely beauty of her slender neck. She was dressed in a loose-fitting gown of white held at her trim waist by a long blue sash which trailed nearly to the ground.

“Your Majesty,” said Durwin, softly announcing himself. “I am here.”

The woman turned and smiled.

“Good Durwin, thank you for coming so quickly.”

“Bria… I thought…”

“You thought I was the Queen, I know. But it was I who sent you the summons.”

“You look so much like your mother standing there with the moonlight in your hair.”

“I will accept that as a compliment, kind sir. For me there is none higher. But you must be tired from your journey. I will not keep you, but I must speak to you a little. Do sit down, please.”

She raised her arm and indicated a stone bench a short space away. Durwin took her arm and walked with her along the balcony. “The night is beautiful, is it not?” he said.

“Yes… it is very.” The young woman spoke as if she had just become aware that it was night. The hermit could tell she had something on her mind which disturbed her.

“I would not have troubled you, but I could think of no better help than to have you here. Theido is gone, and Ronsard with him.”

“It is nothing, my Lady. I am only too glad to know that this old hermit may still be of some use to those who dwell in Castle Askelon. I would have come sooner if I had known-your courier had quite a time finding me. I was in the forest gathering herbs and tending to the illness of a peasant’s wife nearby.”

“I knew you would come as soon as you could. I-” the Princess broke off, unable to say what she felt in her heart.

Durwin waited and then said, “What is the matter, Bria? You may speak freely. I am your friend.”

“Oh, Durwin!” Her hands trembled, and her head sank. She buried her face in her hands, and he thought she would cry. But she drew a deep breath and raised her face to the moon, clear-eyed. In that moment the young woman reminded him more than ever of another woman who bore an immense inner strength in times of great distress-Queen Alinea.

“It is the King,” said Bria at last. “Oh, Durwin, I am very worried. He is not like himself. I think he is very ill, but he will see none of his doctors. He laughs at any suggestion I make regarding his health. My mother is worried, too. But she can do nothing either. And there is something else.”

Durwin waited patiently.

“I do not know what it is-trouble, I think. Somewhere.” She turned and fixed the hermit with a smile which, though it graced her mouth, did not light her eyes as it normally would. “Quentin is coming.”

“Yes, I know, in a few weeks. We are all going to celebrate Midsummer’s Day together.”

“No-he is coming now. Eskevar sent for him. Even knowing that he would come for Midsummer, the King sent a special courier to bring him. That is how I know there is something wrong.”

“It could just be that he wishes to see him the sooner-just a whim, that’s all.”

Bria smiled again. “Thank you for that, but you know the Dragon King as well as I do. He does nothing on a whim. He has some reason for wanting him here. But what it is I cannot guess.”

“Then we will wait and see. When will Quentin be here?”

“If he left upon receiving the summons, I believe he would be here day after tomorrow-the day after that at the latest.”

“Good. That is not so long to wait-you will see. In the meantime I will try to discover what ails the King-in body or in spirit. Anything that may be done, I will do. Worry no more on it, my Lady.”

“Thank you, fair friend. You will not tell them that I sent for you?”

“No, if you would rather not. I will just say that I grew weary of my books and medicines and desired the warmth of fellowship with my friends. I came early to the celebration, that is all.”

“I feel better already knowing you are here.”

“I am content. Though I imagine you would rather a certain younger man stood here right now.”

Bria smiled, and this time the light sparkled in her deep green eyes. “Oh, I’ll not deny it. But I am content to wait. It does cheer me somewhat to know that he comes the sooner.”

They talked some more and then rose; Bria bade Durwin a good night. Durwin escorted her to the door back into the castle and then turned to stroll along the balcony alone.

He leaned his arms on the parapet and looked into the gardens below. In the moonlight he saw a solitary figure pacing among the beds of ruby roses, now indigo in the moonlight. He could not see who this person might be, but it was clear from the altered gait that the walker had fallen prey to a melancholy mood. He hunched forward and crossed his arms on his chest, stopped and started continually.

Durwin looked on, and then the figure seemed to sense that he was being watched. He stopped and drew himself up and turned to look quickly into the balcony. Durwin drew away, but he had seen what he had already guessed. In the moment the face swung around, the moonlight illumined it and Durwin knew that it was Eskevar, the Dragon King.

Biorkis’ long white braided beard, the symbol of his office, glowed like a bright waterfall frozen in the moonlight. His wrinkled face, though still as round and plump as ever, looked itself a smaller moon returning its reflected light to a larger parent. He gazed long into the sky and then said, “It may be something, or it may not. The heavens are filled with signs and wonders, and not all of them have to do with men.”

“If you thought that, would you be standing out in the night stargazing?”

“No, likely not. But this is a most peculiar phenomenon-one does not see such a sign but once in a lifetime, perhaps not even then. To chart its progress would be of value aside from any meaning we might derive from its study.”

“You evade my question, Biorkis. Why? Certainly the star is there for all to see and make what they will of it.”

An expression of great weariness appeared on the face of the High Priest as he turned to regard Quentin. “To the best of my knowledge this star is an evil sign.”

He had spoken simply and softly. But the effect produced within Quentin chilled his blood; he fancied the air had grown suddenly colder.

Quentin sought to lighten the remark. “Omens are always either good or bad, depending upon the reader.”

“Ah, but the greater the sign, the greater the consequence. And this is a great sign indeed. Surpassingly great.”

Quentin raised his eyes to the eastern sky and regarded the star carefully. It was bright, yes, but there were other stars nearly as bright. He looked back at Biorkis with a questioning glance.