"Anyway," Ohns said, "by Ten-Month, the Lion will visit us at the Cloister. We'll have time to ask him then, if we decide to."

Before he went to sleep that night, Macurdy examined something he'd said to Varia-that if she'd wanted to come back to him, that evening eighteen years past, he'd have done it in a minute. Would he, really? Just the evening before that, Melody had proposed-not for the first time-and he'd told her yes, sealing it with a kiss. Wondering at the time how he could possibly be saying it.

He looked at that. And it seemed to him now that he must have known, from some deeper wisdom, that he'd never have Varia back. That it wasn't to be. That if it had been, he wouldn't have said yes to Melody.

The next morning after breakfast, Macurdy and Vulkan set off for the Rude Lands again, this time with a small pouch of gold imperials, from the emperor via Cyncaidh. To cover expenses, because they would, after all, be acting in the interests of the empire, preparing the rulers and people of the Rude Lands for a possible voitik invasion. The twins went to the embassy, and a few days later, headed back to the Cloister, as guards for a courier.

Witbin a week, Cyncaidh and Varia were on a packet rowed by a dozen brawny oarsmen, traveling up the Imperial River to the Middle Sea. There they'd embark on the Sea Eagle, a graceful forty-four-foot schooner built for speed. Within three weeks, perhaps less than two, they'd be at Aaerodh Manor, on the Northern Sea. Cyncaidh would stay only briefly-a month-then return to the capital. Varia would stay on till Nine-Month, unless he sent for her. Stay with their sons. She'd look at them from a slightly different perspective since she'd met Ohns and Dohns, but she'd love them as much as ever. They were truly hers, unshared with the Sisterhood.

21 Tussle in the Grass

Macurdy didn't linger in the Marches. He wasn't widely familiar with them, and they lay in Gavriel's and Cyncaidh's realm of influence. His responsibility was the Rude Lands, and he and Vulkan would spend much of the summer traveling them.

There, for the most part, Vulkan didn't use his concealment spell. Though the Rude Lands lacked a formal postal system, word traveled far and reasonably fast, if it was interesting enough. And an accepted legend riding a great boar remained interesting in spades, even after people got used to the idea.

Stories spread, interest heightened, and inevitably, rumors and exaggerations were accepted as reality. Macurdy ate regularly in inns now, and told of speaking with the Imperial Chief Counselor. There was, he said ominously, evidence of a possible invasion from across the Ocean Sea.

And what Macurdy said tended to be credited.

His first royal visit was in Indervars, the throne home of Indrossa. Next he paused to visit Jeremid again, before continuing on to Tekalos to see Wollerda and Liiset. Wollerda was by far his closest royal ally, and he greatly respected the old Kullvordi revolutionary. Who'd had weeks to get used to the idea of a possible voitik invasion.

Macurdy had hopes that Wollerda would have worthwhile thoughts to share. He didn't. But he was impressed by Cyncaid's story of the two strange ships, fifteen years earlier, and the letter the ylf lord had received from his healer and magician.

Then Macurdy and Vulkan turned west for further royal visits. Their most agreeable discovery was Kormehr's new king. The late Keltorus had been a whiskey-sodden lunatic, who for years had abused his power. Finally he'd been deposed and murdered-"executed"-by his own guardsmen. The new king was someone Macurdy knew and respected. He'd promoted the man to captain after the battle of Ternass. Arliss hadn't forgotten, nor had his warriors, and the Kormehri were exceptional fighting men, comparable to the Ozmen.

Macurdy was received courteously everywhere. And by carefully telling no one what they should do, or that they should do anything, he'd left on good terms.

In the Rude Lands, the palaces were more richly furnished than when he'd known them in the past. Sisterhood products were prominent, not only in palaces but in the better inns, and presumably in the homes of the prosperous. Floor and wall tiles, statuary, jewelry, lamps… Especially lamps. The more fragile glass products were almost surely from Outland operations, transported mainly by river barge.

Macurdy realized he'd played an important, if indirect, role in the growth of the Sisterhood's Outland operations. His invasion of the Marches had shown his Rude Lands soldiers wealth, amenities and roads beyond anything they'd known. And the peace terms he'd worked out with Cyncaidh had greatly expanded markets and trade between the Empire and Marches on the one hand, and the Rude Lands and Sisterhood on the other.

But Cyncaidh deserved most of the credit, it seemed to him. The treaty they'd hammered out had provided the foundation. The ylf lord's knowledge, authority, diplomatic skills and commercial connections had built on it. Cyncaidh. He could have hated the ylf. Instead he admired him. Even liked him.

Finally it was time to pay his first visit to the Cloister. En route he stopped again at Teklapori, and shared his further impressions with Wollerda. There was interesting news from the Cloister, too. Omara, Liiset told him, was no longer Sarkia's deputy. Idri had demanded her ouster, probably as much to test her new power as to deprive Omara of the position.

"New power?" Macurdy asked.

Liiset explained. For years, Idri's single most powerful supporter had been the commander of the Tigers. But she'd been unable to seduce his executive officer, the second in command. The XO had had exceptional respect among the Tigers, and in a showdown would have backed the dynast. But the XO had recently died, apparently of natural causes, and Idri had the new XO in her pocket.

Initially she'd demanded that Omara be assigned Outland; she wanted Sarkia deprived of her services as a healer. But Sarkia had refused, and Idri, backing down, had accepted the compromise.

It had to be tough for Idri, Macurdy supposed, after waiting so long, and wanting so badly to be dynast. For clearly she was impatient by nature. But to risk a showdown… According to Liiset, Sarkia might die tomorrow-she'd almost surely die within the year-leaving the Sisterhood in Idri's hands risk-free.

Then Sarkia had filled Omara's administrative position by promoting Omara's assistant, Amnevi, who might well be Omara's equal, or nearly so, in executive skills. Meanwhile Omara continued as Sarkia's healer.

From Teklapori, Macurdy headed for the Cloister. He'd never been there before, had considered it dangerous to him because he distrusted Sarkia. Now, he told himself, the danger lay in Idri's new power, and her hatred of him. She was genuinely crazy, he told himself, a bomb waiting to go off.

But he needed to visit there. The Tigers, and probably the Guards, were significant military forces already well trained. And if what Cyncaidh had said was true, about the ylver not being susceptible to voitik sorceries, then the Tigers and Guards shouldn't be either. Some or most of them, at least.

On the way, he stopped to meet the King of Asrik. All Macurdy had seen of Asrik before was the wilderness of the Granite Range, many miles to the north. Where the Valley Highway passed through Asrik, the landscape was of high rugged hills, rich in rock and heavily forested. A wilder, stonier version of the Kullvordi Hills. The road, however, was as good as any he'd seen in the Rude Lands, including the River Kingdoms. Mud holes had been drained and filled, and streams were crossed on well-made stone bridges. Through gaps ahead he glimpsed much higher crests, the Great Eastern Mountains. This far south, Vulkan told him, they were at their highest.