“Annubi keeps to himself these days,” Lile informed her. “No doubt you will find him in his stinking cell. You will excuse us… It is time to change the king’s bandage.”

Lile took Avallach by the arm and wheeled him around. Charis saw the wound then, or evidence of it, for a watery red stain had soaked through the king’s clothing just Below his ribs on the left side. The two shuffled off together and Charis watched them go. Then she turned and fled the room, biting her lip to keep from screaming.

Charis found Annubi where Lile had said he would be-in his cell among the lower apartments. She knocked on the red door and then crept inside without waiting for a reply. He was sitting alone in the light of a single taper, gazing at the Lia Fail before him on the table. His hands were not touching the stone, but were folded one over the other in his lap. His face was lined and tired, but his eyes lit up with the old spark when he saw her.

“I knew you were coming,” he said, his lips curving in a smile. “Until now I hoped you would stay away.”

“Oh, Annubi…” Charis rushed to him. She fell on her knees beside him and pressed her head against his chest.

The seer put his arms around her and gently patted her. “It has been a long time,” he said.

“I know. But I am home now.” She raised her head and peered into his tired face. “Oh, Annubi, what is it? What is wrong here? Where is everyone and what has happened to my father? Who is that woman up there?”

“Lile?” Annubi shrugged. “The king’s plaything. She is nothing.”,

Charis rose to her feet. She pulled Annubi by the hand. “Come with me. We must talk. I want to hear all that has happened since I have been away, but I cannot bear this stuffy room.”

So they left the cell and walked once more among the cool blue shadows of the columned portico as Annubi, speaking slowly, sadly, explained all that had happened.

“It was the war,” he said. “It was many things: your mother’s death, your leaving, Seithenin’s wicked treachery- these things weighed terribly on your father. He found solace in the fight, however; he Believed revenge would heal the hurt that had been done to him.

“And indeed the war went well for him at first. His hatred and blood-lust alone carried many a battle. But Seithenin and Nestor are skilled in deceit and cunning. When they saw they could not win against him by force-not with Belyn’s and Meirchion’s forces in support-they contrived to harry Aval-lach. They would not fight him in the open but lay ambush after ambush; they drew him away from positions where he would win, forcing him to give chase. And while he chased, they laid waste to the villages on the coasts and borders.

“Oh, they dared not face him fairly on the field, but they would raze a town and butcher the helpless townsmen as they ran from their home, then disappear to safety again just that quick. It makes me sick to think of what misery they have caused. In short, they forced him to fight with intrigue and guile-two weapons he has never favored and uses not at ail well.”

“How was he wounded? When?” Charis wondered.

“Three years ago. I cannot say just how it happened. After those first successful battles, when the war turned, I did not accompany him again.” The seer sighed deeply. “But he was riding to the defense of a town on the Coranian border- Oenope, I Believe. He arrived just in time to block Seithenin’s retreat. Seithenin was ready; he had held back a force in secret. For once there was a battle and Seithenin won. Aval-lach’s men were exhausted from the march and in no shape to go against fresh troops. Nevertheless, they fought and there were heavy losses on each side-the better part of both armies fell that day.

“In the end, Seithenin withdrew and left Avallach on the field-left him for dead. Make no mistake-Seithenin did not know Avallach was wounded, otherwise he would never have left the issue unresolved.”

Charis listened with dread fascination. She had never once imagined that any of this was taking place. Her world of the bullring was so remote from what Annubi was describing, never once did she receive anything but a most vague impression of fighting far away. There was a war, yes, and it was dragging on and on. That was all she knew.

“The king was carried into the town, or what was left of it. There was a house that had escaped the torch, and Avallach was settled there. A merchant’s house, it was; his daughter was on hand to look after the king. The wound was not thought to be bad. A day or two to heal and he would ride back to the palace.

“But he did not heal. And by the time Belyn got word and arrived to bring Avallach back, the king, in his weakness, had become infatuated with his young nursemaid.” Annubi paused and lifted his narrow shoulders by way of explanation. “She has yet to leave his side.”

“She told me they were married.”

“They were. Just after Avallach returned home. She came with him, of course.”

“They have a daughter. That is what she said.”

“Morgian, yes.” Anaubi nodded. “I keep forgetting about the child.”

“What of Belyn and my brothers?”

“Still fighting… on and off. They ride the coasts and borders and defend the towns. Belyn looks to Tairn, while Kian, Maildun, and Guistan keep Seithenin at his distance. Once in a while one of them will catch a raiding party and there is a fight. Mostly they just ride and watch.”

“It sounds so hopeless, Annubi.”

“It is hopeless, child. This war is despair itself. It cannot be won, but neither side dares quit. And the other kingdoms just sit looking on, thinking, I suppose, to take advantage of the loser-selling supplies, horses, weapons, and sometimes even men to the highest bidder. Oh, there are talks and treaties and alliances and more talks and more treaties, but they all keep their distance, hoping to pick at the bones. Only Meirchion remains our ally, and he is weary.”

“Eoinn?” asked Charis. “You did not mention him.”

Annubi stopped walking. “I thought you knew.”

She shook her head. “N-no…”

“He is dead, Charis. Last year.”

“How?”

“A night raid along the Coran. No one saw what happened. He just disappeared.” Annubi recited the words wearily. “Two days later they found his body downriver. There was not a mark on him. Apparently his horse threw him and he drowned.”

Charis bent her head. Poor, gentle Eoinn, so enraptured by his horses-how ironic that one of his beloved animals should bring about his death. How was it possible that he could die and she not know it?

“The king Was recovering whea it happened, but insisted on riding out to bring Eoinn’s body back. He returned the worse for it and has grown steadily worse ever since.”

“Can nothing be done?”

Annubi gave a quick shake of his head. “As long as she remains beside him… nothing. Bel alone knows what she puts in that foul concoction she gives him. She makes it herself and lets no one near it.” He paused and uttered darkly, “I think she is poisoning him.”

“Why?” Charis raised her head. “Have you told him?”

“It keeps him weak and dependent on her. And yes, I have told him. He laughs at me. I have talked with the shrew as well. She Believes me jealous of the king’s affection for her. She is the jealous one; the woman is crazed with it.

“I have tried to treat the king myself. She flies into a screaming rage-she threatens me.” He shook his head sadly. “As if I were a thief determined to steal the king’s linen. Me, Annubi, who has served the throne of Sarras for three generations. It makes no sense.”

They began walking again. Charis was silent a long time, listening to their steps pattering lightly among the immense stone columns.

“It does not matter, Annubi,” she said at last. “None of it matters-not now, not anymore. It is over.”

“What is over, Charis?”