They waited, and in a little while heard the creak of the gates opening. The stoop-shouldered man who met them smiled and ushered them through the gates, saying, “I am sorry to have shut you out. We did not expect visitors this night, or I would have left them open for you. Come in, come in. Welcome to Dekra!”

The travelers all dismounted, glad to be free of the saddle. The man closed the gates once more and then hurried to them. “Have you ridden far, good people?”

“From Askelon,” replied Alinea.

“All is well in Askelon, I hope. It is a far ride; you must be very tired.” He peered at them with kindly eyes, glad to see these visitors who would bring some news of the rest of the kingdom. “I have sent the boy to bring an elder. I am sure he will want to receive you properly.”

At that moment there were voices; they looked up to see the young boy followed by a man in a long mantle coming swiftly toward them. Behind him were several others who had dropped what they were doing in order to come and make the visitors welcome.

“Ah, Alinea! Bria! How good to see you again! Oh, this is a joyous surprise! Look,” he called to those around him, “the Queen has come! And Alinea!”

Alinea looked at the man, trying to remember him. Bria stepped up just then. “Mother, you certainly remember Elder Jollen,”

“Oh yes, I remember him well. It has been a long time. I am much surprised you remember me!”

“Not as long as all that-to look at you, you have not changed a bit. You are still as lovely as ever you were.” The elder bowed to the ladies graciously. “And, Bria, if not for your mother standing here beside you, I would declare you were her. So much alike you are. Flowers of the same bud. Speaking of flowers.” He winked at the Princesses, who giggled.

“You do flatter us, sir.”

“No flattery, my Queen. It is the truth.” His eyes turned to Esme, standing nearby. “And you must be the lovely Esme, of whom so many good things have been spoken.”

“I am honored, sir, and much impressed, for surely we have never met.”

“No, but it is not difficult to guess your identity. I remember an occasion or two when Bria told me about her friend. I knew when I saw you that you must be she. Welcome.” He turned his eyes to Wilkins and the knights. “Welcome, good friends all.” Elder Jollen paused, regarded his guests carefully, and added, “May you find in Dekra that which you seek.”

There was silence for a moment, then he clapped his hands and said, “Now then, the Governor’s Palace is ready for you. My wife instructs me that you are to dine with us this night. But take your time; refresh yourselves from your trip. Some of the young people will go along to help you settle your belongings.”

“Thank you, Jollen,” said Bria. “But I feel already revived having just set foot in Dekra. We will join you soon.”

“Excellent! Go along now. I will invite the other elders to join us after the meal and we will talk-with your permission?”

“Yes, please do. I would have suggested it. I think it will be best.”

“It is good to be here again,” remarked Alinea. “I had forgotten how it lifts the heart, and how much I have missed it without knowing what it was I longed for.”

“Then I am glad you have come. Perhaps you may stay a long while, my Lady.” Jollen beamed happily at his weary guests. “Yes,” he said again, “I am glad you have come.”

The visitors were immediately swept up and away by the happy inhabitants of Dekra, and led to the old Governor’s Palace in the heart of the restored section of the city in a procession that wound through the narrow paved streets of the ancient ruin. All along the way Curatak stopped to watch them pass, greeting them enthusiastically or joining in the throng.

Esme gazed in wonder at all she saw; everything appeared so foreign and so strange. The walls of buildings all aglow in the setting sun shone with colored tiles-mosaics of the life of the vanished Ariga. Great arches and long colonnades of graceful spiral columns-all carved from the same gleaming red stone-gave the appearance of a majestic, exalted race. The simple sweeping lines of their architecture spoke to her of lofty purpose and a nobility of heart and mind.

The effect was singular. So simple and yet so right. Yes, that was the word. There was a rightness about things here, she decided. A wholeness. A wholeness of what? She did not know yet. It was only upon seeing and experiencing Dekra that one noticed the aching lack in the rest of the world.

All around her the Curatak chattered like happy children, glad to see them, to receive visitors. She felt their eagerness splash over her like spring rain, reviving her, warming her. She felt the great lump of buried ice she had carried so long in her heart begin to thaw and melt.

Oh, she thought to herself, what a wonderful, fantastic place. I am glad I came. By the time they reached the Governor’s Palace she was thinking, Truly this is the city of gods. I never want to leave.

To PYM, the inside of Askelon Castle was utterly and inexpressibly remote-like a castle of the gods in the far mountains. He had often seen the high, forbidding walls rising from the great crown of rock on which the castle was founded, and had as often wondered what the inside looked like.

Of course he had been through the gates on occasion-on his visits to the kitchens where he did his business with the King’s staff. But never had he been invited into the castle itself, and the close proximity served to heighten, rather that diminish, his curiosity.

But now it appeared he would be allowed through the inner gates and into the halls and chambers beyond-perhaps even to stand in the Great Hall of the Dragon King. Reluctantly he said good-bye to Tip, being forced to leave the dog in the inner ward yard, and turned to wait for the chamberlain who would conduct him inside. He had come at dusk, after his day’s work was finished, thinking that Kings worked sunup to sundown like other men, and that he would have a better chance of an audience when the King’s daily labors were done.

Ordinarily Oswald-son of Oswald the Elder, who had died some years ago, following the death of Eskevar-would not have dreamed of letting the little tinker inside the castle, but would have sent him straightaway to the kitchens. But he was overwhelmed with anxiety for the King. Quentin had sunk further into depression and did not stir from his stuffy chamber, which he now kept sealed and dark as a tomb.

Oswald feared for the King. Even Theido had been powerless to effect any change in the King’s behavior. So anything was worth a try-even a tinker who came to the gates insisting on seeing the King, saying he had important information for him, information which only the Dragon King himself could hear.

“I am Oswald, the King’s chamberlain,” he had explained. “What do you want?”

Pym, sitting on a stone bench just under the archway of the main castle entrance, stood up quickly and came forward. “Good sir, if ye please, be s’ kind as to bring me to the King. We ‘uns’ve a pressing matter t’ set afore His Highness.”

“The King,” informed Oswald coldly, hoping to draw information from the man, “sees no one who will not state his business to me.”

Pym scratched his jaw. “That I cannot say, sir. It is fer the King.” He leaned forward and confided, “But I kin tell ye this much…”

“Yes?” Oswald glared at the man, but he seemed not to notice.

“It be veery, veery important. That’s what ‘tis, yes.”

“And what does this important information concern?”

“That be fer the King, sir. Not fer no’un else.”

Oswald could see that the man was adamant about an audience with the King. He looked harmless enough, and who could say but that the tinker might indeed have something that could be useful to his master, though that seemed highly unlikely. Still there was a possibility, and in this dark times even the minutest chances might be snatched at.