“See?” said Nimrood, turning on the High Priest. “You have ruined our surprise.”

Toli advanced on the old sorcerer. The guards drew their swords and held them at ready. “You do not plan to let us go whether the King meets the ransom or not, do you?” said Toli flatly. “You mean to kill us regardless.”

Nimrood leveled his eyes upon him, and Toli saw the depths of hate within them. He knew he faced a being of pure evil. Still, he did not shrink back. “You, Jher dog, should have known that I would never allow you to escape twice. I, Nimrood, will have my revenge-on you and that grasping, spineless master of yours. And it has not been magic that has overthrown you, no-you saw to that long ago when you robbed me of my powers. It has been my own cunning, my superior wits, that have brought you down.”

Nimrood walked across the cell to where Prince Gerin stood. Toli started to move toward him, but felt the sharp point of a sword in his back. The old necromancer placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “But you do not have to be sacrificed, boy. Look at me.” The Prince raised his eyes. Nimrood gazed down at him, saying, “I will offer you a choice. Come with me. Become my pupil, and I will teach you secrets such as no man, save Nimrood only, has ever known. I could give you such powers, boy-power over fire and air, earth and water, life and death. Come with me, and let me be your teacher.” He raised a hand and stroked the youngster’s fair head. “Eh? What say you, lad?”

“No! In the name of the Most High God!” cried Toli. “Leave the boy alone!”

Gerin shivered and, as if awakening from a lulling sleep, shook the sorcerer’s hands from him “No!” he shouted and ran to stand with Toli.

Nimrood’s eyes narrowed to hate-filled slits. “I gave you a choice; remember that when your blood runs out upon the altar-stone, impudent young cub. I could have given you powers and wealth unimaginable.”

“The Most High will reckon with you, Nimrood,” Toli said firmly. “He watches over his servants and remembers the injustices practiced against them. He will repay and bring you to account.”

Nimrood whirled on Toli and his hand flashed out, catching him on the side of the face. The blow resounded in the stunned silence that followed. “Shut up!” spat Nimrood savagely. Fire burned from his eyes; his lips dripped spittle. “Shut up! Do you think I care anything for your petty god? Ha! He is less than the worm that crawls through the dung heap to me. Little men”-Nimrood glared into every face before him-“today you will see how your little gods behave when challenged with true power!”

The necromancer turned and strode to the cell door. “I am finished, and it is time. Bring them.”

High Priest Pluell threw a frightened look behind him at the prisoners and then fled after his demented master. The temple guards, six of them altogether, some with lances and some with swords, prodded the captives with the points of their weapons and marched them off down the corridor.

“I do not know what will happen, Gerin,” whispered Toli as they walked along, guards ringing them in on every side. “But stay alert to any possibility of escape. I, too, will be watching, and if I say ‘run,’ you fly as fast as you can and do not look back. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Gerin nodded resolutely, and Toli knew he would do as he was told.

When they reached the entrance hall of the temple, the great doors were thrown open and the prisoners were led out onto the steps of the temple. Before them on the flagging of the temple yard stood the great altar which had been moved from its place in the temple near the sacred stone and established at the foot of the steps in full sight of the onlookers now crowding into the space within the walls.

People from as far away as Hinsenby, Persch, and Woodsend, and not a few from Askelon, streamed into the yard, jostling for a place to stand, for word had gone out that the Prince was held in the High Temple and that the King would seek to ransom him there. And as many as could travel quickly on horse or on foot came to see their king humbled and the temple exalted and its supremacy reasserted. For though they loved their King, they feared their god more. The simple people believed that the Dragon King had angered the god Ariel of the High Temple by commissioning a new temple to be built to a strange new god; and for this the King, though King he was, must be punished.

Many, to look at them, had walked all night; their clothing was still wet from the rain they had endured to be present at the moment the King laid his enchanted sword aside. They waited reverently, whispering behind their hands to their neighbors, while others talked openly, laughing and joking about what was soon to take place.

But at the moment when the temple doors opened and the prisoners were led out to stand on the steps before the altar, a hush spread over the throng, and the people stared expectantly as the captives’ wrists were bound with braided rope.

Overhead the sky glowered down with dark menace, threatening more rain at any moment. The sun could not be seen at all, and its absence cast a heavy gloom over the scene in the temple yard. Thunder rippled in the Fiskills far off, growling ominously, like a hungry beast stalking its prey.

Toli and Gerin stood side by side on the temple steps surrounded by armed guards in scarlet cassocks. Below them, near the altar, stood the High Priest and the white-haired, white-bearded Nimrood, his long black robes wrapped around him like a cloak of darkness.

“Make way for the Queen!” called a voice. The populace shifted, and a pathway opened in the mass of people crowded to the very steps of the temple. Through this avenue came the Queen, followed by Lady Esme and the dowager Alinea, with Princesses Brianna and Elena between them. With them were the knights who had accompanied them as their bodyguard. All came to stand before the High Priest,

“Release my son!” demanded Bria. “For the good of the realm and the people of Mensandor, release him now.” Relief and anger roiled inside her, making her voice quaver: relief at seeing her son at last, safe and sound; anger at what he had been made to suffer.

High Priest Pluell threw up his hands and looked at her fearfully. “You do not know what you ask, woman. Stand aside.”

“If you will not release him, allow me to take his place.”

Pluell’s eyes darted toward Nimrood. The Queen saw the look and turned toward the wizard. “I see that it is you who I must appeal to. Allow me to take the place of my son if you will not release him.”

“I am not inclined to accept a bargain at this late hour. Stand aside and watch with the others.”

“Sir!” said Bria, starting forward. The guards snapped to attention and lowered their lances toward her; others leveled swords at the Prince and Toli. Instantly the swords of the knights came whistling from their sheaths and met the lances of the guards. “No!” shouted Bria. “I will wait if I must. I will not be the cause of bloodshed this dark day.”

Fearing for the safety of her son if she pressed her demand, she withdrew with the other women to stand off to the side. Afraid of what was to come, she asked one of the knights to take the Princesses to the carriage and sit with them there. Temple guards were placed with crossed lances before them, ensuring that there would be no further interference from that quarter. The women joined hands together and bowed their heads silently.

“It is time,” said Nimrood. “The King is not coming.”

High Priest Pluell turned his eyes to the sky and said, “No, it is not time yet. It is not yet midday. You said we would wait until midday.”

Nimrood drew breath and seemed about to protest, but held his tongue and instead said, “As you will, priest. We will wait yet a little longer. I am not so anxious that I cannot savor the waiting.”