“Your mother and aunt are looking for you. Go to them.”

Charis turned to leave. “Will I see you again?”

“Oh, yes We will meet again.”

“How will I find you?”

“As you found me today.”

Charis retraced her steps to the ferny curtain, parted the fronds and, as she made to step inside, turned to wave farewell. But the High Queen had vanished, leaving not so much as a bent blade of grass to show that she had ever been there at all.

Beside the pool in the lemon grove, Charis found Briseis and Elaine strolling toward her. “Charis,” her mother said, “where have you been? We have been looking for you.”

“I lay down by the pool…” she began. “I-I must have fallen asleep,” she replied, and then wondered why she had lied. “I am sorry.”

“No harm,” put in Elaine. “But I have had enough of a walk for today and we should be going back.”

They started back together, the two women talking softly and Charis wandering idly behind them, her head filled with thoughts of the strange and wonderful enchantments she would perform when she became an enchantress.

“No,” said Avallach, shaking his head gravely. “Seithenin is right. We cannot go to the High King yet. We have no proof of what Nestor intends.”

“We all know well what he intends!” said Belyn angrily. “What about spies? I have their documents with me. Were we to present them to Ceremon, he would have to agree. I say we must put it to him now-before Nestor has had time to poison opinion against us.”

“But if we go to Ceremon now and he demands proof- proof of war, proof we do not have-that, too, will poison opinion against us.”

“And if we wait but a little longer,” put in Seithenin, “Nestor himself may provide the very proof we need. His failure to attend the banquet last night was a slight that will not go unnoticed. Perhaps his next act will be even more condemning.”

“Waiting can hurt nothing,” said Avallach.

“And it will give us time to win more support to our side.”

Frowning, Belyn relented. “Very well, but it galls me to wait while that-that serpent continues laying his plans with impunity.”

“Belyn,” said Seithenin softly, “this is a most grave and serious charge. The Nine Kingdoms have known peace for more than two thousand years. We must do all we can to preserve that peace.”

“Including fight for it,” put in Belyn.

“If we must. But only when all else has failed,” said Seithenin. “If we loose the hounds of war, we must be ready to follow, whatever the cost. Therefore, we must be certain-more man certain-that we know what we are doing.”

“I will not be caught unawares,” said Belyn. “We all know what kind of man Nestor is.”

“Yes,” said Avallach, “he is the kind of man who proves his own downfall. We have only to watch and wait.”

“As long as we are not found watching and waiting when the wheels of his chariots raise the dust of death in our own courtyards,” said Belyn. He pushed back his chair and got to his feet. “I will leave you now.” He raised his hands in the sign of the sun, then turned and walked from the room.

“Ah,” sighed Seithenin when Belyn had gone. “So impetuous.”

“He feels things strongly. A gift from our father who was a very intense man.”

“Yes, King Pelles, I remember him. In fact, I remember the first time we met, you and I. You were a boy-not much older than your own Guistan-when your father brought you with him on some matter.”

“I am surprised that you should remember that. You were not much older than that yourself. Our houses have been linked a very long time.”

“Yes, yes. Good friends,” Seithenin agreed readily. His eyes shifted slightly.

Avallach leaned back in his chair and smiled. “And you know, I have been thinking of recognizing our alliance formally.”

“A treaty?”

“No, a marriage.”

“I see.”

“What would you say to a marriage between my daughter and your oldest son-Terant, is it?”

“I welcome the prospect. Terant is a worthy young man, and your Charis, from the look of her, will grow into a fine woman. I would say that a better match would be difficult to find.”

“Let us call it a match then.”

Seithenin picked up his rhyton from the table and lifted it. “To eternal friendship between our houses.”

“To eternal peace.” Avallach raised his glass to Seithenin’s and drank. He replaced the glass and stared at it silently for a long moment. “The world is changing, you know. We cannot hold our place in it much longer.”

“Perhaps,” said Seithenin gently. “But we will hold it yet a little longer. Our time is not finished.”

Avallach looked up and smiled. “No, I suppose not. And anyway, who can say the new age will not be better?”

While they talked, the deep, resonant peal of an enormous Bell tolled through the open window. Avallach and Seithenin pushed themselves from the table and moved toward the door. “The convocation begins. I had hoped to have a day or two to talk with some of the others before meeting in council,” remarked Avallach.

“The matters before us are not pressing. There may still be time later. The important thing is to discover what Nestor has been up to.”

Avallach stopped. “Despite my words to Belyn, I fear in my heart that he is right.”

“Come,” said Seithenin, “put those thoughts from you. We will need all our wiles to outwit Nestor.”

They walked out into a wide corridor and continued toward the sound of the Bell until they reached a large vestibule. In the center of the vestibule was a tree of wrought gold on whose branches were hung cloaks of royal purple. A few kings were already gathered around the tree as a Mage with a gold hook on the end of an ebony pole reached up among the branches and gently lifted down the cloaks.

Another Mage then placed the purple cloak on the shoulders of a king, who tied the bands at the throat and moved off. Avallach and Seithenin took their places at the tree and received their cloaks. Each cloak was silk, richly embroidered-the right side in gleaming gold sun signs, the left in silver moon disks. The hem was worked in orichalcum thread as was the collar and bands which secured the cloak.

After donning the cloak, each king made his way to the rotunda beyond: a great circular hall filled floor to ceiling with niches. Nestled in each was the bust of a king, carved in marble by a master sculptor. The presence of these images gave the room the appearance of being thronged with a silent yet ever watchful audience.

The kings entered the room by way of an arched doorway and proceeded to their chairs, which were set in a great circle around the room. Each chair was carved from a single piece of ironwood which had been enameled with the colors of the kingdom it represented; over each stood a sun disk whose rays formed the back of the chair. Behind the ring of chairs were stepped ledges where attendants and onlookers could gather to watch the proceedings.

Avallach took his place and watched as the others were seated. He saw that the chair directly opposite him remained empty: Nestor’s. Avallach glanced at Seithenin and indicated the empty place. Seithenin nodded thoughtfully.

Once the kings had been seated, doors in the side of the rotunda were opened and the audience took its place. A gong sounded in the outer vestibule and everyone rose as the High King entered, carrying a staff in his right hand and an orb in his left. The staff was of myrtlewood and had a gold sun disk at its head; the orb was a sphere of pale moonstone.

All those gathered in the council chamber bowed and raised their hands in the sign of the sun. Stewards brought forth a tripod and stand; the orb was placed on the tripod and the staif was set in the stand. The High King was seated and a footstool placed under his feet. “Let the first convocation of the Great Council begin.”

The kings and the audience sat down and Ceremon said, “We are here to deliver justice to our people. May Bel in his wisdom guide our thoughts. Let the Keeper of the Record call the first case.”