Sound the alarm, he told himself, but softly. Otherwise they'll resist the idea, and resent me for it.

Minutes later, Cyncaidh was on his way to the palace. Varia went inside to look after domestic matters, particularly the morale of staff after the poisoning death of Zednis. And Vulkan-Vulkan disappeared. To snoop, Macurdy supposed, perhaps eavesdrop around. He wondered what some unprepared ylver would think, to suddenly see Vulkan's great formidable bulk listening to their conversation with great bristly ears.

Macurdy went to the room his sons had slept in, and knocked. They were, he discovered, wrapping up a discussion they'd begun the night before, on what to do next. Dohns had decided to return to the Cloister with his brother.

"Maybe we'll see you there, sir," he said. Hope tinged his voice.

"Maybe you will. I expect to be there by Ten-Month at the latest. I'll make a point of looking you up." He paused. "I don't plan to leave till morning. Maybe we can go somewhere today."

Ohns looked at him, surprised. "I-we would like that, sir."

"Good. I'll talk to Varia, and see if she can go with us. The last time I saw her, eighteen years ago, she told me about the animal park here. They have wild animals from all parts of Yuulith, from the Southern Sea to the far north."

Ohns looked pleased, and Dohns enthusiastic.

Macurdy went to find Varia, and an hour later, the Macurdy family rode to the zoo together in an open carriage. And Curtis got to see the 800-pound Panthera atrox, the boreal lion. Varia teased that it was the animal he'd been named for, though on Farside, Panthera atrox had been extinct for millennia. "It was Raien," she said, "who named you 'The Lion of Farside.' "

She wants us to like him, Macurdy thought. He gave the animal a final look. Its summer coat was tan with a tinge of pink, and it had more of a ruff than a mane. But it was a lion for sure. One hell of a lion. It seemed to him twice as big as the African lion he'd seen as a boy, at the Louisville zoo. He'd been nine or ten years old. It had been Varia who'd taken him there, too; Varia and Will.

When they left the zoo, they had lunch at an expensive restaurant, then took a carriage ride along the Imperial River, stopped to admire the surging water of the Great Rapids, then walked through Gorge Park. As they rode home, Macurdy felt both good and bad about their outing. It seemed plain they'd never have another day together as a family. But they'd had this one, and they'd all carry the memory.

Cyncaidh hadn't gotten home till midafternoon, and as usual, busied himself with reports. Varia entered his office, kissed his temple, and told him she had some final things to talk about with Curtis. He smiled up at her. "I'll see you at dinner," he said.

She and Macurdy went into the garden again, and sat on a cushioned marble bench. "You know what?" he said. "There's something you used to do that I miss here: the way you used to wear your hair."

"My hair?"

"Tied in two bunches, with yellow ribbons. Like ponies' tails out to the sides."

She laughed. "At the Cloister we wore them like that a lot. It was simple and quick. So when I went over to Farside…" She looked at Macurdy fondly, and felt the old attraction-sexual and spiritual-tugging at her. "How did Melody wear hers?" she asked, "when she wasn't at war?"

"Bobbed off," he said, "the same as when you met her at Ternass. Only not quite so short."

Then she guided him to the subject of Melody's death, on his estate in Tekalos. He told her how it happened, and how he'd tried to revive her. They'd both been soaked with icy water, and the day had been freezing and windy. "I cried like a baby," he said, and to his dismay, choked up in the telling. After recovering himself, he looked at Varia thoughtfully. "When you were stolen from the farm, I never cried at all. Cursed and swore, but didn't cry, because I was sure I'd get you back. And when I found you married, and you told me you were going to stick with Cyncaidh-well, I cried some that night, but I could see you'd outgrown me." He paused. "You know, I never actually said that to myself, but inside I knew it. You outgrew me. I wasn't in the same class with Cyncaidh. If you'd have come with me, I'd have done it in a minute, even though I was in love with Melody. I hadn't been at first, but she was in love with me from the get-go, and finally I found myself in love with her."

Then he told her about Mary, and how she'd died. "I went crazy after that," he said, "didn't know what I was doing. Some guys came along-loggers I worked with-and they dragged me dripping out of the creek and hauled me to town. But I couldn't stay there any longer. My dreams were dead." He almost added, "for the third time," but stopped himself. "After the funeral," he went on, "I sold everything and went back to Indiana."

Then he told her about Charley and Edna and Frank and Edith… people she'd known as family for twenty years.

"And now I'm here again, and can't imagine going back."

"What will you do next?" Varia asked quietly.

Unexpectedly he grinned at her. It wasn't quite the boyish grin she'd known back in Washington County; it held a touch of ruefulness. But it made him very attractive. "I'm going to sit here," he said, "and listen to you tell me about your life since I saw you eighteen years ago."

She laughed. "It will have to be after dinner. I've a few things to do before then."

As always, Cyncaidh was considerate. After supper he left them to themselves, and they talked in the garden for more than an hour. When they said good night, Macurdy felt a powerful urge to take Varia in his arms. Not to kiss her, he told himself, only to… what? It couldn't work. They'd both regret it, lightly if nothing happened, and heavily if they ended up in bed. In this universe she was Cyncaidh's wife, not his.

When the twins returned to their room after supper, sunlight still angled through the windows. Jahns arrived with mugs of mulled cider, and the two of them sat sipping.

"You know," Ohns said thoughtfully, "I'm not sure I could get used to this Outland system of living with parents. But it might be pleasant to be near them-us in the barracks, Curtis and Varia in the palace."

Dohns looked at his brother. "But apparently the only real options we have are to return to the Cloister, and probably never see Varia again, or else stay here with her and Cyncaidh. It's tempting to stay, to see what it would be like, but I'm not likely to unless you do. It seems to me we're supposed to stick together, you and I."

Ohns nodded. They'd been born to be together. And being in the Guards, there was a good chance they'd continue to be. "What would you say," he asked, "if the Lion let us travel with him? We could ask to, you know. Volunteer."

Dohns frowned. "Do you think we should?"

"I'm… not sure. I'd like to apprentice under him, but… For one thing, there'd be no breeding assignments. Mainly, though, I don't think he'd go for it. And in the Guards, we're the top in our year. Given time, we're almost sure to be ranking officers."

Dohns nodded, though their career prospects meant less to him than to Ohns. Ordinarily he was more interested in new things than his brother was. Actually, the idea of staying with their mother and Cyncaidh on the Northern Sea was more attractive than following the Lion around the Rude Lands. But if they chose that option, then didn't like it, the dynast would never accept them back, except as culls. And Ohns was right: He'd miss the girls.