The violence of his reaction surprised her; she had expected concern but not outright anger. “Annubi, why? What have I said to disturb you so?”

“Everything- it is lies. All lies!”

“But there must be a grain of truth in what she said. The Magi attending the king would not have summoned her if there was no need. If she did rescue my father from the grave, I can understand his dependence upon her now.”

“Fate favored her with an opportunity, no doubt. But she has made the most of it. She has twisted this whole unfortunate incident to her design. This Phrygian slave- did she tell you his name?”

Charis thought for a moment. “Tothmos… Yes, Toth-mos, that was it.”

“You see? Her father’s name was Tothmos. He was the Phrygian – a sailor no doubt. Her mother was probably gut-terborn and took to her bed the first man who would look at her.”

“She never mentioned her mother,” mused Charis.

“The unhappy harlot opened her veins at first opportunity, I suppose.”

“But her art – the healing, chirurgia, Mithras? She appeared so adept. She explained my injury to me perfectly, yet never laid a finger on me.”

“I am certain she has some minor skill- what with her stone instruments and all. The religion of Mithras and Isis is very old and was at one time very powerful.”

“Was?”

“It died out thousands of years ago.”

“Then how” began Charis.

“It has been revived- as a cult. It is currently much in vogue in some parts of the world, I am told. As her father was a sailor, it is not difficult to imagine that he would have encountered it on some voyage or other.”

“She seemed to know so much about medicine,” Charis countered doubtfully. She too had begun to frown.

“I do not deny she has a gift. But there are many gods who would bestow such a gift, Charis. And not all of them for the benefit of man.”

“Meaning?”

“If her skill is as great as she claims, why does the king not improve? It has been three years!”

“I was almost taken in by her. She nearly convinced me.”

“Ah, yes, that is part of her art as well. Listen long enough and you can no longer recognize the truth.”

“Annubi, what are we going to do?”

The seer sighed and spread his hands. “There is nothing we can do, Charis. It is hopeless. If Kian were here perhaps”

Charis pushed back the bedclothes. “Kian will not come.”

“Here, lie back. What are you doing?”

With difficulty Charis swung her legs to the edge of the bed. “Kian told me that he and Belyn were meeting in a day’s time at a bridge somewhere on the border between our two lands-Herakli, he said. I don’t know where it is, but I must be there. You will help me, Annubi.”

“You cannot ride.”

“Then you must make it so that I can. Bind me tightly and give me something for the pain.”

“Rest, Charis. There is nothing you can do there.”

She pulled herself to the edge of the bed, pain twisting her features. “I will not stay a moment longer in this house of death and deceit,” she said through clenched teeth. “They will listen to me; I will make them listen to me this time. You Believe what Throm has said”

When he made no answer she asked, “Do you deny what you said before?”

“I deny nothing,” Annubi said quietly.

“Then why do you look at me like that?”

“Your mother, the queen, Believed it too. Do you remember the Great Council?” She nodded. “Briseis kept me busy all the time we were in Poseidonis-searching through records, divining star signs, consulting other seers.”

“What were you looking for?”

“Signs, evidence, information-anything that would prove that what Throm predicted was true.”

“And did you find it?”

“No,” Annubi admitted. “I did not-because I spent all my time looking into another matter.”

“Which was?”

“Your mother’s death.”

Charis shook her head. “Why?”

“Briseis Believed-largely because of the starfall-though she had sensed it well before that. She had some small ability of her own. So I consulted the Magi on her behalf. The signs were conclusive: a royal death was imminent. She guessed she did not have long to live, although I think she never saw what form her death would take. That, at least, was spared her. Still, when the High King was killed, we hoped briefly that the betokened royal death had been his and that she was saved.”

Charis reflected for a long moment. The events Annubi described might have happened centuries ago, so much had changed for Charis since her mother was killed. But all at once the grief of those last days came rushing back with an intensity that blinded her. It was some time before Charis could speak. “I never knew,” she said.

“She could not have faced it if she thought anyone else knew.” Annubi smiled sadly. “You reminded me of her just now.”

“You helped her then. Will you help me now?”

“When could I ever refuse you?”

Charis chose a chariot for speed, if not for comfort. Carriages were too heavy and too slow, and even though every jounce of the chariot’s thin wheels made her wince with pain- and made the driver wince under the lash of her tongue-the road all but flew by. Even so, they did not reach Herakli until well after dark.

The stone-paved streets of the little town were deserted, but a handful of torches still burned in their sconces outside a few of the larger houses, and raucous laughter spilled out into the street from the white stucco inn, whose upper window blazed with a red seaman’s lantern, although Herakli was many miles from the sea.

The driver stopped the chariot, and Charis, stiff from the effort of keeping upright on the tiny seat of the vehicle, turned slowly around to gaze through the narrow murky windows of the inn. “Do you think they might be in there?” she wondered aloud.

Piros, the driver, scratched his jaw. “It would be a wager,” he replied. “I will go see.” He wrapped the reins around the handrail and stepped from the chariot, disappearing into the inn without another word or backward glance.

He was gone so long that Charis thought she might have to go searching for him and had nearly made up her mind to do so when he reappeared. “They are not there, Princess Charis,” he said, the smell of resinated wine emanating from him.

“Did you bathe in the stuff or just down an amphora or two?”

Piros blinked back at her, thunderstruck.

“You leave me sitting out here while you drink your weight in that” She sputtered, looking for words, “-that goat urine they serve in there.”

The stablehand went down on his knees in the street. “My life is forfeit, Princess, if you are displeased,” he said.

“Oh, get up!”

“Information must be bought, but innkeepers will talk to those with a jar in their hand. And driving is such a dusty business… I only thought…”

“Get up at once!” ordered Charis sternly. “And stop whining. You could have brought me one, at least.”

Piros stood, head down, hands hanging at his sides.

“Well, as you were in there long enough to take up residence, what did you find out?”

“Some of Kian’s men were in Herakli earlier today to buy food and drink. But they left again and did not return.”

“Are they still nearby?”

“No one knows. But one man, a vinedresser I think, said he saw a group of men on the road earlier today-near the bridge. There is a grove there on the Sarras side where people sometimes meet.”

“If they are here, that is where they will be,” said Charis. “Did he say how to get there?”

“He said he could take us.”

“Go get him then.”

Piros ducked his head and hurried away. “You have already paid your debt to social obligation, Piros,” she called after him. “Leave the wine alone.”

The vinedresser was a thin, dark-skinned fellow with a long, narrow nose which even by flickering torchlight Charis could see was inflamed and red from overindulgence in the produce of his craft. Charis eyed him skeptically. “You say you know where the men I am looking for can be found?” she asked.