AH around the pond in neat concentric circles were small trees whose thin branches were laden with pale, perfectly round apples. Charis stepped to the nearest tree and reached out to pick one of the green-gold globes.

“I should not think it would be ripe yet, Princess Charis.”

She pulled back her hand and turned to see Lile walking toward her through the trees. “They are beautiful though.”

“Yes,” replied Charis, annoyed that she was not alone in the garden, but not greatly surprised to see Lile since she deduced that the place had become the woman’s haven. “I do not think I have ever seen such apples.”

“They are special,” replied Lile, reaching up to caress one with her palm. She was dressed in a rough-woven linen, the hem of her pleated skirt drawn up between her legs and tucked into her girdle in front. Her feet were bare.

“You have taken over this garden,” observed Charis without warmth.

“It was in decline.”

“A pity you were not able to save it.”

Lile rose to the gibe with quick anger. “I cannot guess what Annubi has told you, but I can see that it has poisoned your heart against me.”

Charis looked at her distractedly but said nothing.

“I feel it every time I come near you.”

“Then why do you keep intruding where you are not wanted?” snapped Charis viciously.

Lile shrank from the attack. “Why does everyone hate me so?” she wailed, throwing her hands over her face. When she raised her head again her eyes were dry. “Have I ever done anyone harm? Why is everyone so afraid of me?”

“Afraid of you? Surely you are mistaken.”

“Fear-it must be that. What else can make people treat me the way they do? You distrust me because you are afraid.”

Charis shook her head violently. “I am not afraid of you, Lile,” she said. But Lile’s accusation had hit close to the mark.

“No?” Lile frowned with misery. “Annubi is afraid that I have usurped his influence with Avallach-which is why he tells lies about me.”

“Annubi does not lie,” Charis replied with quiet assurance. In all her life she had never known the king’s advisor to so much as shade the truth, let alone utter an outright falsehood. Be that as it may, he had not told her the whole truth about Avallach’s wound and had mentioned nothing at all about Guistan’s death.

“Threatened enough, anyone will lie,” asserted Lile with equal conviction. “I have threatened him, so he speaks against me. No doubt he told you my father was a Phrygian sailor” began Lile.

“Named Tothmos. Yes, and you said the man was a slave.”

“My father was Phrygian, it’s true. And yes, his name was Tothmos. As a young man he was a sailor-but he owned his own ship and he did buy a slave.”

“A slave also named Tothmos?” Charis sneered.

“My father gave him his freedom, so the slave took his name. It is a common enough occurrence. Why must Annubi twist everything I say?”

Once again doubt entered Charis’ mind. Could what Lile said be true? Could it be that Annubi resented her so much that he twisted her words and used them against her? But why would he do that?

“There is only one way to prove me,” Lile said.

“What is that?”

“Try me and see if I stand or fall.”

“What trial would you suggest?”

“Any trial you like, Princess Charis. For it to mean anything, you must choose it.”

“I have no wish to try you, Lile,” sighed Charis, shaking her head wearily. “You say one thing, Annubi another. Words, words, words. I do not know what to Believe anymore.”

“Believe me when I tell you that I mean no one any harm. Believe me when I tell you that I have not come grasping after power for myself. Believe me when I tell you that I want to be your friend.”

Charis was shamed by the words. She felt there was truth in what the woman was saying and she wanted to Believe. Yet… and yet, there was something in Lile that could not or should not be wholly Believed. Something darkly sinister, like the mushrooms in their fetid beds, or worse, something kept chained and out of sight-a grotesque beast which is never seen but watches from its shadowed corner. Charis could feel the presence of the beast; she could feel it watching, waiting. And this made it impossible for her to trust Lile completely.

“I would like to Believe you, Lile,” said Charis, meaning it.

Lile smiled, but the smile died as quickly as it had come. “But you cannot.”

“I cannot,” Charis admitted. “Not yet. But I will not lie to you.”

Just then they heard a light, lilting voice, high-pitched and happily out of time. A moment later a sunny head bobbed into view as a barefoot child of four came skipping out from behind a boxbush. The girl was flaxen-haired and brown as a bean. She wore only a linen skirt of sky-blue, the once-crisp pleats now hopelessly wilted and wrinkled. A single daisy drooped from behind her ear, and around her neck she wore a necklace of the same flowers, their stems broken and clumsily plaited together. Except for this necklace, her upper body was bare. In her hand she held a half-eaten greengage, the juice of which glistened on her chin. When she saw Charis she stopped in midskip and stared at her with eyes as green as the fruit in her hand, as green as the leafy hedge enclosing the strange garden.

“Come here, Morgian. I want you to meet someone,” said Lile.

The girl stepped forward shyly. The green eyes scoured Charis’ face, and she found herself unsettled by the frankness of that innocent stare.

“Morgian, this is Charis. Say hello.”

“Hello,” replied Morgian. “You are b-blootiful.”

“So are you,” said Charis.

“But you are big.” said the little girl.

“Someday you will be big too,” Charis told her. “I see you like greengages. Is it good?”

Morgian looked at the fruit in her hand and dropped it, as if a guilty secret had just been discovered. Her mother gave her a stern look and explained, “She knows she is not supposed to pick anything in the garden… Correct, Morgian?”

The little girl looked abashed and lowered her eyes. She pushed the greengage with a dirty toe.

“You may go, Morgian. Say good-bye.”

“Goodbye, Princess Charis,” Morgian said and was gone.

“What an enchanting child,” said Charis, watching her flitter away.

“She is a joy. Your father says she looks just like you did at that age.”

Charis nodded. “Lile, you asked me to try you,” she said abruptly. “I need your help.”

Lile held her head to one side as if weighing conflicting responses. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking behind those hard, dark eyes. At last she said, “How may I serve you?”

“Walk with me. I have something to tell you.”

The two women moved off together, and Charis began explaining about Throm’s prophecy of cataclysm and doom. Unlike the others Charis had told about the coming disaster, Lile took it seriously, accepting Charis’ astounding pronouncement without qualm or question.

“What can I do?” Lile asked. Her voice was steady, with no hint of apprehension or fear.

“Belyn has agreed to go after Seithenin’s fleet. There is a plan, and a small chance they will succeed. Once we get the ships-if we get them-it is only a matter of filling them.”

Lile’s eyes grew wide as she glanced around her. “It would take years!”

“We do not have years, Lile. A month, two perhaps. Not more. Annubi is trying to find out how much time is left.”

“I see.” There was such resignation in the words, Charis stopped and turned toward her. Lile was staring at the palace whose balconies, porticos, and terraces were towering over them. “We leave it all behind. We start again.”

“Yes, we start again-but we take with us what will be most helpful in beginning life anew.”

Lile took a deep breath, as if she meant to start bundling crates to the harbor at once. What an unusual woman, thought Charis. But I am glad I told her. I could not do this alone.