The staccato tap of other footsteps sounded behind them. Gerard turned to see a man approaching, the man Odila had been talking to outside. He was a short, stocky man of middle years who carried himself with an air of authority, although he greeted Odila with a show of obsequiousness. Gerard frowned, instantly taking a dislike to the man.

"Ah, Salamon," Odila said, "let me introduce you to my friends. Gerard, this is Salamon Beach, the architect for the building. A very good and important architect. Salamon is in Solace to take charge of overseeing construction and keeping everything on schedule."

"Under the lady's direction, of course," Salamon said in an oily voice, bowing to Odila.

"Gerard is the town's new sheriff," Odila went on.

Something shifted, becoming furtive in Salamon's manner. "I am honored to make your acquaintance, sir," he said, though he never raised his eyes to meet Gerard's. "Now I know whom to go to should anything untoward come up in our little world here." He laughed mirthlessly as if he had just told a joke. "Although we are quite insular and peaceable, and therefore in scant need of an officer of the law."

"You wished to see me, Salamon?" Odila asked.

"Matters will keep, Lady," the architect said, bowing unctuously again and backing out the way he had come. "I wouldn't want to intrude on the lady's visit." He nodded to Gerard; turned, almost colliding with Vercleese, and scurried away.

Gerard stood staring after the man. Salamon bore close watching, of that Gerard was sure. Although why the man aroused his suspicions, he had no idea.

The tour over, Odila led the way back outside. The bright sunlight struck with merciless intensity after the dimness of the interior. Gerard squinted around at the temple grounds, where workmen reclined, eating lunches taken from wrapped packets. A few workmen, apparently having finished their meals, lay stretched out on the grass, snoring softly. Under a tree, a pair played a game of Regal. The entire atmosphere was one of indolence and relaxation that formed a stark contrast to the tumultuous activity that had characterized the site upon Gerard's arrival.

Odila ushered Gerard toward a large pair of rounded rocks protruding from the ground, and motioned for him to sit. He chose one of the rocks and sat, and she took the other.

"So what do you think of our project?" she asked.

Gerard peered at her. "The temple is most impressive."

Odila beamed, again appearing free of whatever ghosts of the past haunted her. But it was only a fleeting look of pleasure, and soon the serious frown returned. "We still have much to do before the dedication."

"Are you concerned about being ready in time?"

"No, not really. Salamon seems a capable supervisor. He'll get the job done, I'm sure."

But Gerard noticed that her voice lacked conviction.

Just then someone approached and handed a basket to Odila. "Ah, lunch," Odila said, taking out sandwiches and offering one to Gerard. "Will you and Sir Vercleese join me?"

Rather than answering, however, Gerard was staring up at the young woman who had delivered the basket. It was the pretty serving maid from the inn the previous evening.

Odila noticed the direction of his gaze. "Have you met Kaleen?" she asked. "She's been a great boon to me. Not only does she keep everyone fed, but she has turned out to be an invaluable assistant."

Gerard knew he was staring like a fool. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out Instead he turned his attention to his sandwich, cold roast beef on a bun.

"Oh, I've met Lord Porridge," Kaleen said with a sly wink in Gerard's direction. Gerard felt himself flush all the way to the tips of his ears. "He's staying at the inn, you know," Kaleen went on. "And I can tell you one thing, he simply adores Otik's spiced potatoes!"

Odila turned to look at him with a puzzled expression. But Gerard ignored her and tore off a bite of sandwich, which he chewed diligently, his mouth dry as the Plains of Dust.

¦ ¦ ¦ ¦ ¦

That was the first time Gerard ran into Kaleen that day. Later that evening, when he went to the inn for dinner, he saw her again, leaning over a game board across from a thin, dissolute-looking man with shifty eyes. "Gerard," she called to him with easy familiarity, waving the sheriff over. "Mott here is teaching me to play Regal. Ever heard of it?"

Gerard glanced around the large room, unusually quiet this evening, then crossed to Kaleen's table. He nodded to her before concentrating his gaze on the man across from her. The stranger's eyes darted shiftily this way and that, refusing to meet Gerard's.

"Yes, I've heard of Regal," Gerard said, declining to mention that he once had been a regional champion of the game that was quickly replacing khas as the most popular in Southern Ergoth-as well as in Solace, apparently. "You aren't working tonight?"

"Laura gave me the night off. I came by to help out anyway. So what do you know about Regal?" Kaleen went on, bubbling with excitement. "Mott says I'm a quick learner. He says that at the rate I'm going, I'll quickly win back what I've lost, and then some."

"Does he now?"

Mott awarded Gerard a sickly smile, then glanced away.

"And what, exactly, is it that you have lost?" Gerard continued.

"Nothing much," Kaleen said, suddenly evasive. "Nothing I can't replace."

"So what are the stakes right now?"

Kaleen's voice dropped to a mumble. "Tomorrow's wages." She brightened. "But I'm in no danger of losing again. I'm about to win everything back. Isn't that right, Mott? You said so yourself."

Mott started to stand. "I, uh, have to be going. I just remembered some business elsewhere."

"Sit down," Gerard said softly.

Mott sat.

"Now, if I recall the game properly, there should be a crown somewhere that allows one player or the other to assume control of the board."

Kaleen glanced to the side of the board, where five walnut shells rested. "Yes, it's under one of those," she said. "The player who uses a turn to look under a walnut shell gets a chance at claiming the crown."

"Under a walnut shell?" Gerard responded pleasantly. "Now, what do you think of that, Mott? Any chance that crown is really somewhere else?" Gerard's hand shot out, grabbing Mott's left wrist and forcing his palm up. There, slyly held in place by the base of his thumb, was a game piece shaped like a small diadem.

"Well, what do you know," Gerard said. "Looks like I guessed where the crown was hidden. That makes me the claimant for the throne."

In one swift, liquid move, Mott reached with his other hand for a knife. Gerard twisted the man's wrist until there was a snap. Mott screamed and dropped the knife, grabbing for his wrist with his good hand. Gerard let go, and the man bent over his broken wrist, moaning.

"I think you'd best see to that injury, then be moving along out of town," Gerard said.

"Now, how am I to make a living?" the man gasped.

"Try honest work." Gerard turned away. "But do it in some other town. I don't want to find you still here tomorrow."

"Who are you to order me around?"

"I'm the new sheriff of Solace. And this young woman"-he pointed to Kaleen-"is under my protection. As are all the good citizens of Solace."

Mott swore and stumbled from the inn, hunched over his broken wrist.

Kaleen was staring at Gerard. "My goodness! How did you know that piece was there?"

"Just a lucky guess." Gerard looked around the inn once more, satisfying himself that all else was well, then sat down at Mott's empty place. "He seems to have left his game behind," Gerard said, indicating the Regal board. "Care to play? I can teach you some of the fundamentals." When she hesitated, he added quickly, "Not for coin, though. Just for fun."